


between the moonlight and the lane

by coffeewordangel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Murder Mystery, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10053191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewordangel/pseuds/coffeewordangel
Summary: All Zayn really wants is to quietly practice magic and teach. The universe has other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by Dresden Files and the Anita Blake series. Very loosely. 
> 
> Title from Leonard Cohen's Love Calls You By Your Name
> 
> Come say hey on [tumblr](http://empty-altars.tumblr.com/). :)

Zayn steps out of the cab with a murmured 'thanks' and into the bracing morning. It’s far too early and he’s running on very little sleep, but when the Met calls it is in Zayn’s best interests to answer. Ever since magic and the supernatural became known to the general public, the government has attempted to create laws for it. As long as Zayn plays along, he’s mostly guaranteed to be left to his own devices the rest of the time.

Frost covered grass crunches beneath his boots as he strides across the park toward the small gathering of men and women in suits and uniforms. The closer he gets, the stronger the scent of blood on the crisp fall air. It’s disconcerting, but not necessarily uncommon. Zayn usually doesn’t get called in unless there’s a body.

“Oi! The witch is ‘ere!” a deep brogue announces as Zayn gets closer.

A plainclothes detective sighs heavily. “He’s a warlock, Brannon. Do you need supernatural sensitivity training again?”

Brannon, apparently, scowls heavily at Zayn. “No,” he mutters, double chin wobbling in anger.

Zayn ignores him, it’s not the worst slight he’s ever heard. What with his religion and mixed heritage and magical abilities, there are any number of slurs that have been directed his way over the years. He’s hardened himself to them, developed somewhat thick skin when confronted with bigoted assholes.

Instead, Zayn directs his attention to the detective and immediately feels like a toad. The detective is incredibly handsome, with a slight quiff and a strong jaw and a surprisingly expensive suit for a public servant. Zayn is all too aware of his own appearance and the fact that he has not shaved in days and his hair has seen no comb other than his own fingers in approximately the same amount of time.

“Professor Malik,” the detective greets solemnly. “I’m Detective Inspector Payne. Thank you for coming. I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here. Your expertise was suggested.”

“Zayn,” Zayn offers. “Only students call me Professor.”

DI Payne inclines his head slightly. “Would you prefer High Warlock?”

“Oh god no,” Zayn negates with a swift head shake. He hates the designation, secretly longs for the days when he was just a lowly warlock operating under the radar. “Zayn, please.”

Payne nods, face still stoic, but there’s definitely mirth dancing in those warm brown eyes. “Zayn, then. If you wouldn’t mind taking a look at the scene.”

He holds out a sealed sanitary suit which Zayn dons as quickly as he can. He’s sure the hood and mask and little paper booties are doing wonders for his personal appearance, but he’s basically given up on making a positive impression on detective hotness over there. He forgoes putting on the gloves, partly because he hates the feel of latex on his hands, but mostly because they dull his ability to draw on the magic in the air.

Zayn spins the chunky silver ring on his index finger nervously. He hates an audience. Taking a deep breath he closes his eyes and uses the silver jewelry to channel his magic, silently calling for Sight. When he opens his eyes the world is covered in swirling color.

It is no surprise that Brannon has a brown aura, negative and self-loathing. DI Payne is covered in a bright, beautiful green and, surprisingly, a wolf shadow. He’s a shifter. Zayn files the information away as it has no bearing on the current proceedings as far as he can tell. He wonders if DI Payne is out to the department about his condition. He guesses not, as magical creatures tend to not rise particularly high in the ranks if they are accepted into the academy at all.

Zayn ignores his own silver aura and the trails his hands leave in the air when he moves them and focuses on the body that has been torn apart on the matted grass. His suspicions are confirmed when he sees imprints of dark red and trails of shifter energy around the body. It’s bad news. Much better if it were merely a mundane issue rather than a magical one. A long blink and cessation of the spell and the world is merely grey and overcast again.

“Your suspect is a shifter,” Zayn announces.

“Fucking animals,” Brannon snarls. “Should all be put down.”

“SST tomorrow morning at nine,” DI Payne snaps.

Brannon opens his fat gob to protest, sees the controlled displeasure on Payne’s face and promptly shuts it again. His fleshy jowls are set in petulant anger, but he appears to understand that speaking will result in further recrimination. Zayn can muster up no sympathy at all for him. It’s clear that he has no idea his direct superior is a shifter, which supports Zayn’s theory that Payne is not out at work.

“Are you sure?” Payne directs toward Zayn, brow furrowed.

“Unfortunately,” Zayn replies. “The residual energy surrounding the body is quite distinct.”

“I have a claw,” the pathologist announces from behind his mask, holding up tweezers clenching a large, curved claw that’s dark with congealing blood. “Have to send it to the lab to determine which type of shifter.”

“How is that possible?” a petite blonde asks from the sidelines. “We’re nowhere near a full moon. I didn’t think they could shift at will.”

“Not at will, per se,” Zayn says slowly. “Extreme stress can prompt a change. Danger to self, a psychotic break, any manner of things. It’s rare, but there are documented cases.”

“You weren’t around for that case a couple years ago, Farrow, but there was a Uni student who shifted when she was attacked by a rapist on campus,” Payne informs her.

“Good for her,” Farrow mutters, turning back to the scene. She murmurs something further that Zayn can’t quite make out. Something about women and claws.

Zayn ducks back under the scene barrier and strips off the suit, handing it over to a waiting uniform. He notices a rather large hole in the hem of his sweater and sighs. There’s no way he’s going to salvage this first impression. He looks a mess. Maybe he’ll come off as charmingly absent-minded, but Zayn holds out little hope. He’s pretty sure there are bags under his eyes from too little sleep and too much caffeine.

“Did you need anything else?” Zayn asks, trying not to show how much he wants to go back home and perhaps catch a nap before continuing to grade papers.

Detective Inspector Payne finally cracks a tiny smile. It increases his attractive quotient by at least ten which is just unfair. “You’ve been most helpful, Professor. We’ll be in touch if we have further need of you.”

Zayn doesn’t bother to correct him about his name. Instead he just takes his leave and calls a cab on his hopelessly outdated phone. He can feel Brannon’s glare between his shoulder blades, but looks can’t actually kill if you’re non-magical so Zayn is less than worried. Hopefully he won’t have to deal with him again. DI Payne, on the other hand, would be welcome any time.

\--- 

Zayn should perhaps have informed the universe that when he said ‘any time’ what he really meant was after he’d managed a proper nap and a shower and a decent meal and wasn’t wearing ratty sweats and a stretched-out vest. If possible, he looks even worse than he did a few hours before. He was very close to ignoring the knock on his front door, but Harry had landed on his chin and poked him repeatedly between the eyes until Zayn woke up.

“Someone’s at our door!” Harry announces cheerily.

“My door,” Zayn grumbles. “It’s my apartment, you freeloader.” He swipes at Harry who darts away, gossamer wings fluttering charmingly in the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window.

Harry settles himself on Zayn’s shoulder as he shuffles to the door. Zayn doesn’t want visitors. No one ever visits him for friendly purposes. It’s always business or neighbors complaining about him burning out the fuses again. Part of being High Warlock is settling disputes between magic users, which is mostly just a pain in the ass. Everyone is so fucking petty.

“Professor Malik,” DI Payne greets from Zayn’s doorway. “Sorry for the intrusion, but can we talk?”

Zayn blinks several times in succession to make sure that he isn’t hallucinating. A lock of DI Payne’s carefully styled hair has fallen in a soft curl over his forehead, making him look younger and softer somehow. His tie is tugged loose and the first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone, showing off a tantalizing V of skin and springy chest hair that Zayn really wants to run his fingers through and nuzzle against.

“Yeah, come in. Just. Call me Zayn. Please. You’re in my place, you know?”

DI Payne smiles fully at him, causing Zayn’s heart to skip around unsettlingly in his chest. “Alright, Zayn. I’m Liam.”

Suddenly Zayn understands Liam’s insistence on formality. Knowing that he is Liam has caused a paradigm shift in Zayn’s brain. There’s something intimate between them now that wasn’t there a moment ago. He feels almost naked in front of him, in his bare feet and loose vest. Harry shifts impatiently on his shoulder, digging sharp little heels into the flesh of Zayn’s chest.

Zayn sighs. “And this is Harry,” he introduces. “Full time pest. Can’t get rid of him for the life of me.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Pleasure to meet you,” he replies diplomatically.

Harry preens under the attention, shaking out his long curls and fluttering his wings fetchingly. Zayn scowls at him. He is not vying for Liam’s attentions with a goddamn fae. Not now, not ever. Harry can fuck right off. He’s not even actually interested, he just likes to be admired.

“Go away,” Zayn hisses.

Harry throws him an offended look but flits off to wherever it is he goes to sulk. Possibly the bathroom. He likes to take long soaks in the sink and use ridiculous amounts of floral bubble bath for such a tiny bit of water.

“Sorry,” Zayn apologizes. He gestures for Liam to enter and closes the door behind him. The air between them feels thick, full of portent somehow.

“How did you end up with a fairy?” Liam asks.

“He just showed up one day. I saved his sister from a troll and to thank me he moved in. I think he just wanted out of the Seelie court, honestly. The politics over there are a nightmare. And they don’t have bananas.”

“Bananas?”

Zayn snorts. “It’s his favorite food. He’s like a fruit fly. If we run out of fresh fruit, he’s impossible until I buy more. Real drama queen, that one.”

“I see.” Liam looks a little overwhelmed by all of this.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Zayn offers. “Was just about to put the kettle on.”

“Please,” Liam says fervently, like a man grasping for normalcy in a sea of bizarre. It’s adorable.

Zayn settles the kettle on the stove and lights the gas burner. It’s old fashioned, but at least it works all of the time. He’s spent entirely too much money and time replacing stoves and electric kettles after his magic had burnt them out. It’s frustrating, but he’s been dealing with it his whole life. One of his earliest memories is shorting out the stereo in his Baba’s study.

“What can I help you with, Liam?” Zayn asks once they’re both seated in the living room.

Liam flushes and looks down at his hands. “I…don’t know how to ask this of you.”

“I find it best just to blurt it out,” Zayn says. “Then it’s out and done.”

Liam laughs quietly. “Okay. I know you know what I am. I’m sure you saw it when you were investigating the scene.”

“That you’re a werewolf?” Zayn asks. “I did see that, yes.”

“No one at work knows.” Liam looks ashamed, which raises Zayn’s protective instincts.

“No one needs to know,” Zayn assures him. “There’s nothing wrong with lycanthropy, but the general public is full of prejudices. I would imagine it’s even worse in the Met.”

“They’re trying,” Liam says. “Sensitivity training is mandatory and we’re not to treat magical citizens any different, but Brannon isn’t the only bigot on the force, unfortunately. Some of the others are a bit higher up.”

“Can’t change things overnight,” Zayn replies. “We’ve only been out for less than a decade. The laws are still trying to catch up. People are still protesting the Vampire Personhood laws.”

“True.” Liam tilts his head and smiles a private smile. “At least they’re not after me for being gay.”

“So many closets,” Zayn teases to cover the way his breath hitches at the confirmation. Available! He’s available, his brain screams. Which might not be true at all. “How does your partner feel about your monthly change?”

“My…partner?” Liam wrinkles his brow. “No one at work…oh! Domestic partner. No, I’m single.”

Thankfully the tea kettle whistles before Zayn can embarrass himself further. He practically runs for the kitchen and busies himself with preparing the tea. It’s awful how quickly Zayn has fallen for the handsome DI. He never does this, prefers to keep himself to himself most of the time. Dating is messy and lord knows his life is messy enough right now.

“How many sugars?” Zayn calls.

“Three, please!” Liam replies.

Zayn smiles to himself as he adds the sugar. Liam has a sweet tooth it seems, which is kind of charming. As grown up and in charge as he is, there’s something boyish about him, something young and untouched by all the death he must encounter.

“Cream?”

“No thank you.”

Zayn carefully carries both mugs back into the living room and hands Liam his. Liam nods his thanks and purses his full lips to blow over the surface. Zayn curls his legs underneath him and tries not to react. He very much wants those lips all over him. Perhaps preceded by those large, capable hands that are currently cradling the steaming mug more delicately than seems possible for their size.

“I thought you might have fae in you, when you showed up this morning at my crime scene,” Liam mentions idly.

“Fae? Why?”

Liam ducks his head sheepishly. “I didn’t think anyone who looked like you could possibly be purely mortal.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mate. I looked a right disaster,” Zayn says. How Liam could have thought he had fairy blood escapes him.

“A beautiful one, though,” Liam replies earnestly.

Zayn lowers his gaze, grateful that his complexion doesn’t show a blush easily. “Thank you,” is all he can think to say, suddenly shy.

“It’s horribly unprofessional of me,” Liam begins, “but I would very much like to take you to coffee some time.”

Zayn licks his lips nervously. “I have a class 11 to 1 tomorrow, but I’m free after, if you’re serious.”

“I am, yeah,” Liam says steadily. “Very serious.”

“I should give you my number,” Zayn offers.

Liam looks embarrassed again. “I...might have taken it from your file already. When I looked up your address. Like I said, unprofessional.”

Zayn is more amused than anything else. Liam looks like a little boy who’s been caught out. “Then you should give me yours, just to make it fair.”

“Right, of course.” Liam pulls out his phone and sends a text to Zayn. It pings in his pocket and Liam looks inordinately pleased.

Liam sets his empty mug down on a coaster that appeared around the same time Harry did in Zayn’s life. Harry keeps trying to domesticate Zayn with varying results. Liam stands and shifts awkwardly.

“I should leave you to your day,” he states.

Zayn feels disappointed, but knows that should Liam stay the urge to crawl into his lap and snog him senseless might win out. That might prove to be too much and Zayn doesn’t want to scare Liam away quite yet. The fact that he’s not put off by the magic or Harry is something of a minor miracle, honestly.

He walks Liam to the door and hesitates, feeling a bit shy again under the heated gaze Liam turns his way. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Zayn asks.

“At one,” Liam confirms. 

Liam bites his lip before darting in to brush a kiss across Zayn’s cheekbone. He throws a pleased smile Zayn’s way and then he’s out the door before Zayn can fully process everything. Desire swirls in his chest, all wrapped up in a dangerous fondness for Detective Inspector Liam Payne. 

\---

Of all Zayn’s myriad vocations, the one he is most fond of is being a professor because it’s the one he chose for himself. He enjoys teaching, especially when he doesn’t have any intro classes and can focus on more concise areas of study with students who are truly interested in the course material. There’s something deeply satisfying about it.

That said, he can barely focus on his Folklore and an Alternate History of the Supernatural class, too consumed with thoughts of warm brown eyes and full pink lips. He prompts a class discussion and, while interjecting now and then, mostly lets the small class debate amongst themselves while he daydreams about his upcoming date.

Two hours seems an interminable amount of time, but Zayn somehow perseveres. Eventually he releases his class and takes a deep, calming breath before checking his phone. Except for a couple texts from his department head about the upcoming staff meeting there's nothing. 

Disappointment wells in his chest and he tamps it down viciously. It's just barely gone one. Maybe Liam is running late. Zayn stuffs papers in his bag before shouldering it and heading out of the empty classroom directly into a firm, familiar chest.

“Whoa, sorry,” Liam apologizes with a chuckle.

“You found my room,” is all Zayn can manage. Somehow Liam has gotten even more attractive overnight.

Liam laughs outright. “Wouldn't be much of a detective otherwise, would I?” 

“Guess not,” Zayn says.

Liam reaches out and runs a finger along Zayn’s jaw, sending a solid shiver down his spine. “You shaved.”

“Need to look somewhat presentable at work,” Zayn explains with a shrug.

“Kinda liked the scruff,” Liam says in a low voice, eyes slightly hooded.

Students stream around them in the hallway and Zayn should show a little more decorum with the way gossip travels in this place. He can’t make himself care, though, not with Liam standing just a little too close, smelling delicious and looking even better. All he wants to do is press up against him and find out how those lips feel against his own.

It takes considerable willpower to step back slightly. “You mentioned coffee?”

Liam licks his lips slowly, pupils still slightly dilated. “Yeah. There’s a little shop across the street.”

Zayn knows which coffee shop he’s referring to. It’s run mostly by students and is perhaps not the best place to go if he wants to continue to keep his private life to himself. Still, for the first time in a long time, there’s a tiny desire inside of him to show Liam off, a niggling need to let everyone know that this gorgeous man asked him out. It’s completely contrary to his nature, so much that it worries him slightly, but Zayn decides to just go with it.

“Yeah, I know the place. Shall we?” Zayn cocks his head toward the exit.

Liam smiles at him and reaches out to take his hand. “Definitely.”

The gesture is surprising, but in no way unwelcome. Liam’s hand is large and warm wrapped around his own. It makes him feel safe somehow, although nothing about his life is ever completely safe. The myriad scars strewn over his body can attest to that. 

They chat idly about the weather and their families and all the getting to know each other small talk. Zayn is curious about the case, but holds off until they're seated at a cozy table in the corner, as far from prying eyes as they can get. Their barista is a former student of Zayn's and winks cheekily at him when she delivers their coffees.

Zayn shifts uncomfortably and gives her a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. Across the table, Liam looks all kinds of amused by the exchange. He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his sugary caramel and whipped cream concoction.

“Someone you know?”

Zayn nods. “Former student.”

“I bet you get all the students crushing on you,” Liam teases.

Zayn makes a face. “I try not to think about it, honestly. I wish they wouldn’t.”

Liam grins. “Can’t say I blame them. None of my professors looked like a model when I was in school.”

Zayn ducks his head and changes the topic, unsure how to respond to the compliment. “How’s the case going?”

“Oh.” Liam’s expression turns sober. “We got lab results back on the claw. It was a werewolf.”

“Shit.” The implications of this discovery are not good. “Do you think it’s someone you know?”

Liam’s lips twist into a grimace. “It seems likely. Which brings me to asking you a favor. I wasn’t going to talk business just yet, but you might be able to help me.”

The emphasis that Liam puts on ‘me’ leads Zayn to believe that this is not official police business Liam’s talking about. Chances are high that he’s about to ask for assistance with pack and Zayn has to decide right now how deep he wants to be in this thing. Thus far he hasn’t had much experience with shifters, barring a minor incident with a couple magical teenagers and a leopard pard a few years ago, but that was easily taken care of. 

As part of his job he frequently has to liaise with other parts of the supernatural community whenever there’s trouble, especially if it’s been caused by a magic user. Unfortunately, every single group has their own politics and governing structure and it’s honestly a headache that Zayn would rather avoid. Still, Liam is asking and they’re werewolves. They have to be easier to deal with than the fae.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t even know if it’s possible,” Liam begins. “But you could tell from the energy signature or whatever that it was a shifter, right?”

“Yes.” Zayn tries to listen intently and not get caught up on how attractive Liam’s face is.

“If you saw the energy again would you recognize it? I mean, is it unique or do all shifters leave the same energy behind?” 

Zayn can see where he’s going with this. “Everyone has a unique energy signature, like fingerprints? Kind of? Like, all shifters have the same type of energy, but within that there are variations that make it unique to them. I would recognize it.”

“Would you be willing to come with me to a pack meeting?” Liam asks, earnest and a little unsure. “And look to see if it’s any of mine who did this?”

The look on Liam’s face at the thought that one of his people committed this crime is heartbreaking and for his sake Zayn hopes none of them did. Meeting Liam’s pack is daunting enough, akin to meeting the parents for shifters, without the added pressure of secretly searching for a murderer among them. Zayn takes a deep breath. He can do this. For Liam.

“I would do that for you.” Zayn hopes Liam understands that there’s almost no one else he would be willing to do it for. “What would you tell them about why I’m there? I assume outsiders aren’t normally invited into pack gatherings?”

Liam blushes and looks down. “Um. I was thinking we could tell them you’re my, uh, boyfriend?”

It should not be possible for a grown man to be this devastatingly adorable. Zayn’s heart clenches slightly in his chest. “We should get our stories straight then, yeah?”

“Really? You’re willing to do that?” Liam’s eyes are freaking _limpid_ , the very definition of a puppy gaze.

“Yes, Liam. I would pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your pack for you,” Zayn says. It would be better if they weren’t pretending, but it’s far too soon for that.

“Okay, so, I was thinking we should keep it simple. We can say we met through my job, but like, probably a few months ago? It would go over better if we’d been dating for a bit, you know?”

Clearly, Liam has thought this through some, which is pretty cute. “Yeah, that works. I get called in for cases fairly frequently, considering.”

“Yeah. I know. Um. I might have asked for you specifically? I mean, I didn’t know you were gorgeous, but I was told you were the best,” Liam explains.

Despite his occasional reluctance to work with the police, Zayn is pleased by his apparent reputation. “I try,” he says with as much modesty as he can. “So, when am I meeting your pack?”

“Friday,” Liam says. “We meet every three months or so to go over pack business.”

“Not for full moons?” Zayn asks, curious.

“The pack owns property out in the country so whoever wants to run together meets up there, but it’s not mandatory unless there’s a new member. But with the current laws in place, there’s a lot more paperwork involved in becoming a lycan than there used to be,” Liam says with a twist of his lips. 

Clearly, Liam feels the way much of the supernatural community does, that humans should keep out of supernatural business with their laws and governance. It’s an interesting take considering he’s a detective. Zayn is torn. On one hand, navigating through the maze of supernatural laws _and_ human laws is a headache. On the other hand, there’s a lot less death and blood than there used to be. Supernatural justice has a tendency to be swift and final. Most of their laws haven’t changed much since the dark ages as quite a few of the community have been around at least that long if not longer.

“How often do you go?” 

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Every month. It’s sort of expected of me.” 

Interesting. That lends credence to Zayn’s theory that Liam is an alpha. There are several in any pack and are generally expected to be the backbone and authority of the pack under the head alpha, the Ulfric. It can be difficult to tell in human form, but generally alphas tend to rise to positions of authority in their everyday life as well. 

Liam’s phone trills next to his now-empty coffee cup and a regretful expression crosses his face. “I’m sorry, I have to head back to work. I feel we spent all our time talking about the case and none of it getting to know each other.”

“There will be time for that,” Zayn assures him. “I’ll see you in a couple days?”

“I’ll come by a bit early to collect you so we can go over things,” Liam confirms, rising to his feet. 

Zayn follows suit and allows Liam to collect their trash and dispose of it. Outside the door, on the now quiet mid-afternoon sidewalk, Liam hovers. He seems torn and Zayn takes the decision away from him by cupping that strong jaw and dragging him in for a firm kiss. Liam’s lips part in surprise and Zayn takes the opportunity to teasingly dip his tongue between them before pulling away.

“A taste for later,” Zayn says with a wink. “See you Friday, Leeyum.”

\---

“You can’t wear that,” Harry drawls from his perch on top of Zayn’s dresser. He’s made a nest of silk designer scarves that Zayn has never seen before. 

Zayn purses his lips and examines himself in the mirror. He’s already changed outfits four times. It’s starting to get ridiculous. He feels like he’s in a teen movie or something. “Why not? What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s a pack meeting, not a prom,” Harry tells him.

“Don’t lads wear tuxes to proms? And what do you know about proms anyway?”

“I watch TV,” Harry replies flippantly. “Lose the tie at least.”

Zayn makes a show of sighing heavily and pulling off the tie, but secretly he’s relieved. He can’t say he enjoys ties very much. “Better?”

“Much. That shirt is lovely on you. Much better than the red,” Harry comments, examining his nails.

“I still don’t see what was wrong with the red,” Zayn grumbles. 

Harry arches an eyebrow. “Nothing if you don’t mind getting eaten. And not in the fun, sexy way.”

Zayn is not going to let his brain imagine Liam eating him in the fun, sexy way. He’s not. “Werewolves don’t eat people, Harry,” he snaps instead. Then he pauses and amends himself. “Anymore. They don’t eat people anymore. You’re being speciesist.” 

Harry tosses his curls and crosses his arms. “Are you or are you not going to this meeting to suss out if one of them _ate_ a person?”

Okay, point. “That’s different. An anomaly. And besides, I’m pretty sure that red thing is a myth. It’s never been proven.”

“Fine. If you want to get killed by wearing red into a wolves’ den then don’t come crying to me when you get eaten for it.” Harry in a snit is a unique experience and Zayn is grateful that he’s leaving soon. He doesn’t have the patience for this.

“They don’t live in dens,” Zayn mumbles under his breath, fiddling with his hair in the mirror in an attempt to make it look decent. It’s too long to style into a quiff anymore and he really should get it cut soon. 

Luckily, the doorbell rings before Harry can spout off any more nonsense about werewolves. Zayn doubts there was much chance to encounter many in the Seelie court so all of his information is mostly hearsay and legend. It’s completely ridiculous. 

“Wear your black leather jacket!” Harry calls after him. “They like leather!”

Zayn rolls his eyes but grabs said jacket, not because werewolves might like leather but because he looks good in it and it’s comfortable. Outside his door, Liam is dressed down in jeans and a button up shirt, similar to what Zayn is wearing himself which makes him secretly sigh in relief. Liam’s allowed a bit of scruff to grow, as opposed to his usual clean shaven look and Zayn wants to rub up against it like a cat. 

“Um.” Liam’s gaze travels over Zayn’s body in a complimentary manner. “You look amazing, Zayn. I just have one little favor to ask.”

Zayn cocks his head. “Yeah?”

“The silver jewelry…” Liam pauses uncomfortably. 

It takes a moment to twig but when it does, Zayn wants to smack himself upside the head. Of course he can’t go meet a bunch of lycans with all his silver jewelry on. “Oh god, I’m sorry. Has it been bothering you all this time?”

Liam’s smile scrunches his eyes. “No. If you touched me with it for a prolonged time it would eventually burn me. Like an allergy? It’s just, if we were dating, it would look weird for you to wear it.”

Zayn nods fervently. “Of course. I need at least one of the rings to help channel my magic, but I can leave it in my pocket?”

“That would be perfect. If you don’t mind?” Liam looks apologetic again, like he’s asking a lot.

“It’s fine,” Zayn assures him, taking out his earrings and pulling off all but one of his rings. He’d forgone the necklaces tonight thankfully. Once his nose ring is out he presents himself for inspection.

“Don’t suppose you have a gold nose ring?” Liam asks in a low voice.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “All the jewelry I own is silver, unfortunately. It plays better with my magic. You like the nose ring?”

“I like all of it,” Liam replies honestly. “Everything about you.”

Zayn licks his lips and steps closer, into Liam’s personal space. “Everything?”

Liam’s hands settle Zayn’s narrow hips and pull him even closer. “So far, anyway,” he murmurs, close enough his breath feathers hot and tempting over Zayn’s lips. “One more thing to ask of you, but you can say no if you want.”

“What do you need from me?” Zayn asks, his voice gone deep and throaty.

Liam hesitates a moment. “Wolves are...territorial. If we were dating, it would look strange for me to take you to a pack event without my mark on you.”

“Are you telling me that you want to mark me up, Liam?” Zayn purrs.

Liam fumbles a bit and blushes, which is so incongruous with his sexy alpha posturing of a moment ago that it makes Zayn’s head spin. “Not. Uh, not all the time? Just. Just for pack things? I mean. Yes, I want to. But, like, if you…”

“Liam,” Zayn interrupts gently, pressing a finger to his plush lips. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. If I need to cover it for some reason I can just glamour it, okay?”

Liam looks slightly put out about Zayn glamouring his mark away, but nods. His eyes flash golden when Zayn tilts his head to bare his neck, the first sign Zayn has seen of his werewolf side other than his energy signature. A thrill races up his spine. He shouldn’t be this turned on about this, but he can’t help it. 

Zayn gasps softly when Liam’s lips make contact with his jugular. They rest there for a moment, breath hot and damp across Zayn’s skin. Then Liam licks tentatively, making Zayn’s breath catch deep in his throat. He appears to be waiting for permission, but Zayn isn’t sure he can give verbal consent at the moment so he brings his fingers up to wrap in Liam’s hair and push him forcefully against his neck. Liam gets the message and bites firmly, sucking hard and steady. Zayn tries not to whimper, but he’s half hard in his skinny jeans and when he said, ‘it’s fine’, what he really meant was, ‘dear god, please.’ 

Zayn is brought out of the haze Liam’s mouth dragged him into by a piercing wolf whistle and enthusiastic clapping. Liam jolts away from him, eyes wide and startled. There’s really only one person it could be and Zayn is already glaring by the time he finds the culprit.

“Are you fucking joking?” Zayn demands.

Harry is deeply unapologetic, draped over a couch pillow with a wide grin plastered on his face. “Good show, lads!”

“I swear to god, Harry...is that fucking popcorn? Where the hell did you get popcorn?”

Harry just stuffs a kernel into his mouth. It barely fits and causes his cheeks to puff out like a chipmunk. It is not endearing in the slightest. Next to him, Liam busts out in giggles. Zayn gives him an unimpressed look.

“I told you he wanted to eat you, Zaynie,” Harry announces, clearly pleased with himself.

Zayn kind of wants to die. “We’re leaving,” he mutters before dragging Liam out the door. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Liam assures him. “Is he always there? Uh, for future reference?”

“Not always. He does know how to make himself scarce. He just, sometimes doesn’t?” Zayn sighs. “I think he thinks he’s watching out for me or something. He doesn’t quite trust you yet.”

Liam opens the passenger door for him and smiles sadly. “I’m basically a stranger, I can see why he would be cautious.”

“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, thanks,” Zayn says sharply. “I don’t know where everyone gets this impression that I need taken care of.”

Liam heads around the car and slides into the driver’s side. He places a wary hand on Zayn’s knee. “I know you are. I’m sure Harry knows you are, he just cares about you. And sometimes that overrides logic, yeah?”

Zayn sighs. “Yeah. You have a point, I guess. It’s just irritating that everyone underestimates me at first.”

“Useful in a fight though,” Liam points out. 

“Must you have an answer for everything? It’s quite infuriating,” Zayn says, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh, not everything,” Liam responds with a grin. “And most of the time I’m just making it up as I go along.”

“It's the delivery, I suppose,” Zayn comments. “Makes you seem like you always know everything.”

“Are you calling me a know-it-all, Zayn Malik?”

“I definitely am, Liam Payne,” Zayn replies with a teasing laugh.

It's a little disconcerting not knowing exactly where they're going or how long it will take to get there. Liam is driving at speeds that would probably be unsafe for someone without supernatural reflexes but he seems to have it completely under control. At least the ridiculously expensive sports car they're in takes the curves well. Zayn watches the scenery fly by at alarming rates in the shadows of dusk, hands clenched tightly together in his lap.

“Hey, are you okay?” Liam asks with a worried glance. “You seem anxious.”

Zayn laughs weakly. “Well, I’m going to meet your pack and I’m going to lie to them about how long we’ve known each other and convince them that we’re dating and I’m going to surreptitiously see if any of them is a murderer. So, you know, no reason to be concerned.”

Liam takes a hand off the wheel to slide over Zayn’s twisting fingers, which makes Zayn’s pulse jump for several reasons. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be right next to you. And we’re not lie detectors, although that would make interrogations easier if I were.”

“What if they hate me?” Zayn whispers. 

The fact is, all the rest of it is background noise. The true source of the gnawing pit in his stomach is that Liam’s pack might not accept him. He doesn’t know a lot about shifters, but he does know that they tend to choose pack over everything else. This thing with Liam is new and unsure, but Zayn does know that he wants to see where it goes. If the pack rejects him, the chances of that happening are close to zero.

“They’ll accept you if I tell them to,” Liam says with a quirk of his lips. “But I don’t think I’ll have to. You’ll do fine.”

Zayn has no time to open up that statement because they’re pulling into a large, circular drive in front of a rather giant house. Liam is opening his door before Zayn has managed to finish gawking. Fairy lights line the walk, wrapped delicately around the immaculately groomed bushes. Zayn slides his hand into Liam’s in search of comfort. Liam squeezes his hand slightly and opens the door.

“Everyone’s here already,” a pretty brunette states as they step into the foyer.

Zayn bites his lip to keep from laughing. She’s dressed head to toe in leather, like maybe she watched Underworld a few too many times. Maybe there was something to Harry’s statement about werewolves and leather. 

“Good,” Liam replies calmly. “Then we can start.”

She flips her hair irritatedly and fixes Zayn with a hostile stare. “Who’s this?”

“Sophia, this is my boyfriend, Zayn. Zayn, this is Sophia,” Liam introduces with barely concealed amusement.

“You brought a boyfriend? An _outsider_?” Dismay mars her pretty features.

“Be polite,” Liam warns.

“He doesn’t belong here,” Sophia hisses, glaring at Zayn.

Liam bares his teeth and growls deep and low in his chest, causing the hair on Zayn’s arms to raise. The change in demeanor from Sophia is immediate. She whimpers and bares her neck in submission.

“I’m sorry, Ulfric,” she whispers, chastened.

Zayn tries to hide his shock. Liam is not just an alpha, he’s _the_ alpha. What the ever loving fuck. This might have been pertinent information to have coming into this situation. They are going to have a long conversation after this about what else Liam is hiding from Zayn. Now is not the time to be pissed about it, but Zayn is definitely saving that anger for later. He settles for glaring at Liam, who looks slightly embarrassed about the display.

“We should, um, head in,” Liam suggests.

“Sure,” Zayn replies curtly.

There are thirty or so people of ranging ages lounging around what Zayn guesses is the living room, although it’s huge. The overstuffed loveseat against the far wall is completely empty and Liam makes a beeline for it, tugging Zayn after him. Zayn tries not to stumble and allows Liam to drape an arm around him.

He can feel several eyes staring at the large mark on his neck. Zayn bites his lip and makes a valiant attempt not to flush under the attention. It’s only natural that they would be curious. Especially if Liam hasn’t brought anyone before. Zayn allows himself to melt against Liam’s side and focus on the warmth emanating from him. Liam’s index finger traces idly over the mark on his neck, making Zayn think things that are not appropriate in a group setting. It feels a little like possession, which would ordinarily raise Zayn’s hackles, but from what he’s seen of Liam it seems mostly for show.

“Just to get it out of the way before we start, this is my boyfriend Zayn,” Liam announces with a smirk, clearly having seen all the attention focused on Zayn. 

There are surprised murmurs, but they die down quickly. Zayn tries to follow the proceedings but they’re pretty boring. It seems mostly like what he ends up doing for the magical community: settling squabbles and listening to grievances. Of course, Liam’s word is law here and Zayn mostly ends up pleasing no one when he makes them compromise. 

Eventually talk turns to the murder in the park. Liam had made a strong case against letting the public know the suspect was a shifter, but he was overridden. It’s made everyone in the community uneasy. It’s never a good thing when the general public has concrete reason to fear the supernatural community. Everyone’s still getting used to the idea that the things they thought were merely fiction actually exist alongside them. 

While Liam tries to calm everyone down, Zayn takes the opportunity to slide his hand into his pocket and slip on his ring. He silently calls for Sight and lets his gaze slowly wander over everyone in attendance. The majority of auras are some shade of green or blue, common for shifters, with some dark red scattered throughout. Zayn does not find what he’s looking for and he isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but ends the spell and takes off the ring.

It looks like Liam is wrapping things up. Everyone seems calmer somehow, is chatting quietly amongst themselves. Zayn isn’t sure exactly what Liam said, but it seems to have worked, which is fairly impressive. He takes the opportunity to cuddle just a little closer under the guise of being in a relationship. 

“There’s food in the kitchen, if you’re hungry,” Liam offers in a low rumble.

His chest vibrates softly under Zayn’s cheek. “I’m a bit starved, actually,” Zayn replies ruefully. He would much rather use Liam as a cushion for a little while longer, but his stomach rumbles at the thought of food.

Liam laughs. “Up you go, then. I’ll show you where it is.”

Liam’s hands wrap around Zayn’s waist and lift him to his feet. It shouldn’t be a turn on, but Zayn can’t help but wonder what else Liam could do with all that strength. It’s a good bet that Liam would be able to hold him up while fucking up into him. Zayn tries very hard to regain his composure as Liam stands next to him and takes his hand.

“You alright?” Liam asks quietly.

“Yeah. Just a little overwhelming,” Zayn answers honestly. “Your pack is kind of big.”

“There are several uni students that are only members temporarily,” Liam explains. “They come and go from year to year. Some decide to stay, but not all of them.”

“Liam!” a beautiful older woman with bouncy curls calls from across the room, waving enthusiastically.

“Nora,” Liam greets with a smile, pulling Zayn behind him. “Have you met Zayn?”

“I haven’t,” she says, her hazel eyes sparkling mischievously. “You didn’t tell us you were seeing anyone.”

Liam ducks his head slightly. “I like to be sure of things first.”

“Must be serious then,” Nora murmurs with a smirk. She gives Zayn a once over. “He’s very pretty, Ulfric. Well done.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “You can speak directly to him, you know.”

“Without your approval? And risk your displeasure?” Nora isn’t wearing pearls, but if she were Zayn has a feeling she would be clutching them.

“You know I don’t abide by the old laws,” Liam explains with the air of one who has repeated himself on the subject too many times. “They’re hopelessly outdated. Everyone should have a voice.”

“Yes, yes, very liberal you are,” Nora says dismissively, waving her hand. “Now, I left you several meals in the fridge. There are specific cooking instructions on each one. Make sure you follow them to the letter.”

“I can cook,” Liam says a tad defensively.

Nora tuts at him. “Cheese toasties are not cooking. Left to your own devices you would be ordering in all the time. It’s not good for you.” She levels an inquisitive look at Zayn. “Do you cook, young man?”

“Me mum taught me, yeah.” Zayn isn’t entirely sure what’s going on.

“Oh good. You must be working class. Monied individuals so rarely know how, I find. Brought up with chefs and such.” She turns her gaze back to Liam. “You’d do well to let someone take care of you.”

Liam looks like he isn’t sure whether to laugh or make an escape. His cheeks hold a hint of a flush. He’s impossibly adorable at the moment. This feels like a conversation that has been repeated numerous times, most likely with Liam being scolded like a child about his eating habits on a regular basis. 

“Now, your mother asked me to keep an eye on you,” Nora prattles on, completely oblivious to Liam’s embarrassment. “And that’s what I mean to do.”

Zayn feels that for a woman who was going on about old laws a moment ago, Nora holds little use for them herself. While watching Liam squirm has been entertaining to say the least, he could probably use a rescue. Luckily, Zayn has an abundance of experience in dealing with overbearing maternal figures.

“I hate to interrupt, but all this talk of food has made me starved,” Zayn interjects, widening his eyes in a way he knows makes him look innocent and helpless. 

“Oh you poor thing,” Nora tuts. “Liam should get you a plate. You look like you could use a decent meal or two.”

Zayn fights the urge to raise an eyebrow. He gets told he’s too skinny every time he visits back home so it’s not as insulting as it could be. Liam quickly makes his escape into the depths of the kitchen, leaving Zayn to Nora’s mercies. She gossips a bit about pack members that Zayn doesn’t know before getting distracted by a very pregnant woman a few feet away and taking her leave.

“Coward,” Zayn accuses teasingly when Liam returns to hand him a plate heaped with food.

“Hey, you gave me that escape route,” Liam replies with a rueful grin.

“I meant for you to take me with you.” Zayn takes a bite of scalloped potato but eyes the sausage on his plate warily.

“It’s chicken sausage,” Liam is quick to explain. “No pork.”

Zayn hadn’t told him about his dietary restrictions but at this point he’s completely unsurprised that Liam took the time to discover them on his own. So far he seems too good to be true, thoughtful and attentive above and beyond anyone Zayn has ever met before let alone dated. It goes to his head some, fizzes in his bloodstream like carbonation until he feels he could float from it.

“Thank you,” is all Zayn can manage through the emotion choking him.

Liam introduces him to a stream of pack members whose names he will never remember, although he’ll try. Eventually they leave in twos and threes until the house is empty except for the two of them. It feels enormous without the extra bodies.

“We should talk about some things,” Zayn announces with a sharp look. He hasn’t forgotten how close to the chest Liam has been playing.

“Uh, yeah,” Liam agrees sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“For withholding information? You should be.”

Liam flushes slightly. “I...don’t like to talk about myself.”

Zayn sighs, not nearly as irritated as he has a right to be. “I figured that out, _Ulfric_.”

“That. I definitely should have told you about that. But it still feels like maybe it was a mistake that they put me in charge?” Liam takes a seat on a high stool and gestures for Zayn to do the same. 

“It wasn’t,” Zayn negates swiftly. “You’re clearly a great leader. The best ones are those who don’t really want to be, who don’t desire the power, who just want what’s best for those around them.”

Liam shifts uncomfortably. “Thank you. Um. Feel free to ask me anything you want to know. I don’t want to keep secrets from you. That wasn’t my intention.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I know. So. You’re rich. This place is yours?”

“I have family money, yes. And some investments that have paid off quite well. This place is technically my family’s? I don’t live here, I have a flat in the city. I mostly use it for pack gatherings or when I need to escape for a bit,” Liam explains.

Zayn toys with his fork for a moment before setting it down on his empty plate and pushing the whole thing away slightly. “Okay. And Sophia?”

Liam grimaces. “We grew up together. When my dad was Ulfric everyone assumed that I would take over one day and she would be my Lupa. Uh, my mate. Including her. Me being gay kind of put a wrench in everyone’s plans and I don’t think she’s accepted it yet?”

“Do I have to worry about her challenging me?” 

Liam looks troubled. “I don’t know for sure. I want to say no. There hasn’t been a challenge in this pack in over a century, but she’s hurt and angry and I don’t know if she’ll lash out because of it. I haven’t cared enough about someone to bring them around before and I think she’s just held out hope that I never would.”

Zayn meets Liam’s steady gaze. “And would you have eventually brought me around if you weren’t forced to?”

“I wasn’t forced to tonight,” Liam says, voice a little rough. “I wanted to. I want _you_. No one’s ever made me feel like this before and I know it’s too soon, but I want more. I want everything.”

It should be frightening, the intensity of the confession when they’ve only known each other a handful of days. It’s not though. Zayn understands what he’s saying because the same feelings resonate deep within him. There’s something about Liam that draws him in, that feels like he should stay. 

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Me too. So if there’s a challenge I’ll meet it. As long as it’s for something real.”

Liam nods. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.” He sighs heavily and stands up. “I could use a coffee. Would you like one?”

“Definitely.” Zayn nods. “And can we relocate to the couch? These stools are not comfortable. And I feel like a little kid with my feet dangling.”

Liam laughs as fiddles with the Keurig. “Yeah, we can do that. Whatever you want.”

Zayn accepts a sturdy earthenware mug from Liam and realizes that he must have been paying attention to Zayn’s order at the coffee shop. He takes a sip and slides off the stool to follow Liam back into the living room. Zayn slips his shoes off and settles his feet in Liam’s lap before he realizes what he’s done. Casual contact is something he usually has to work at, not something he does without thinking about it. 

Liam loosely curls his palm around Zayn’s ankle and smiles at him over his mug. “French Press tastes better, but this was quicker. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, this is fine,” Zayn assures. “We should probably talk about what I found when I searched your pack. Was everyone in attendance tonight? No one missing?”

“Everyone was here,” Liam says. “You didn’t find anything?”

“The killer isn’t part of your pack. Might be someone passing through.”

Liam sighs in relief, tension draining out of his body. “That will make finding them more difficult, but thank god.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t one of them,” Zayn murmurs.

“Me too.” Liam absently rubs his thumb over the knobby bone of Zayn’s ankle, sending a warm pulse of affection through him. “This case is a nightmare. Everyone is on edge.”

“Things will die down soon enough,” Zayn comments, trying to ignore the rising desire threatening to overtake him. “It’s new and shocking, but the general public has a short memory.”

“Hopefully we can close the case, but I don’t even know where to look at this point. It’s an isolated incident.” Liam looks discouraged.

Zayn gives up the pretense of distance and sets his mug on an end table. He pulls his legs back in and, in one swift movement, settles himself into Liam’s lap. Liam’s broad hands come up to cup his hips, warm even through his clothes. His fingers slip under the waistband of Zayn’s jeans, flirting with the small of his back. 

“Hello,” Liam says with a smile.

“Hi,” Zayn replies with a grin, resting his forehead against Liam’s. “I think we should let the case go for now. It’ll still be there when you go back to work on Monday.”

“I actually have to drop in on Sunday for paperwork reasons, but I take your point.”

“There’s quite a few hours between now and then,” Zayn points out. “Did you have plans?”

Liam’s hand slides up to cup the back of Zayn’s neck and he nuzzles his nose against Zayn’s. “I was hoping you’d be open to spending some of those hours with me.”

Zayn licks his lips and smirks. “Were you, now? Lucky for you, Detective Inspector, I have some free time to fill this weekend.”

“Want to relocate to the bedroom?” Liam asks, voice gone husky and low. “I have a rather giant bed.”

“Yes, please,” Zayn replies. 

Before he can move to get off Liam’s lap, Liam stands up and takes Zayn with him. Zayn instinctively wraps his legs around Liam’s waist and clutches his shoulders but there’s no need. Liam carries him easily, one hand under his ass and the other still curled around the back of his neck. 

Zayn goes from interested to desperate in a split second. Casual displays of Liam’s strength apparently do it for him in a big way. Liam’s not even watching where they’re going, spending his attention mouthing at the mark on Zayn’s neck. Nevertheless, he unerringly navigates up the stairs and into a large bedroom to gently tumble Zayn onto the softest mattress he’s ever felt.

“You weren’t joking about your giant bed,” Zayn says, trying to undo all of the stubborn little buttons on Liam’s shirt. “Could fit three more people on here.”

“I don’t like to share,” Liam growls, biting not so gently down on Zayn’s exposed collar bone. 

Zayn arches up into him with a whine. “Me neither,” he pants.

“Good,” Liam says, peeling Zayn’s shirt back to kiss and bite his way down Zayn’s exposed chest.

Apparently Liam is not having the coordination issues that Zayn is having, made worse by every point of contact between Liam’s mouth and Zayn’s skin. Liam rubs his scruff up Zayn’s sensitive ribs before sliding back down to suck at his hipbones. Zayn shudders at the sensation. When Liam does it again on the other side, something twigs in his brain.

“Are you,” Zayn gasps, “are you _scenting_ me?”

Liam looks up at him, eyes wide and pupils blown. “Um. I can...not?” It looks like it costs him to offer and Zayn immediately feels guilty.

“God, no,” he reassures, catching his breath. “It’s hot as fuck. I just. I’ve never…”

“Been with a were?” Liam finishes with a smile. “I should have warned you. I can get kinda...bitey? And, um, intense?”

Zayn drags his fingertips across Liam’s jaw, catching on the light beard scruff covering the skin. “I told you that you could mark me up,” Zayn reminds him. “If I don’t want something I’ll tell you.”

“Okay,” Liam agrees, leaning his face into Zayn’s touch. “Usually I can control myself, but there’s something about you…” He trails off with a heated look.

“Me too,” Zayn replies hoarsely. “I’m all in, okay?”

Zayn has never been one for casual sex, but none of his previous experience has prepared him for the intensity of this thing with Liam. He doesn’t think it’s because Liam is a lycan, is pretty sure he’d be just as attracted if he were completely human. There’s something about him that resonates deep in Zayn, something that feels like they’ve known each other forever. 

Liam nods once in acknowledgement and all but rips Zayn’s jeans off him to bury his nose in Zayn’s groin. “You smell so fucking good,” Liam moans. 

“Wanna eat me up?” Zayn teases.

Liam pulls back to raise an eyebrow before swallowing Zayn’s dick in one smooth motion, until his nose is pressed against Zayn’s stomach. His eyes hold a hint of arrogance that drives Zayn a bit crazy. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Zayn and is enjoying every second. A whimpering moan drops unbidden from Zayn’s lips and his eyelids drop closed at the sensation.

Zayn forces his eyes open again, not wanting to miss one second of Liam’s steady rhythm. Liam keeps eye contact the whole time, sending a rush of heat down Zayn’s spine. He wants this to last forever, wants to keep the warmth of Liam’s perfect mouth wrapped around him all night, but he can feel his orgasm edging closer.

“I’m gonna…” is all Zayn can manage. Liam sinks back down all the way, eyes burning into Zayn’s, and swallows deliberately. Zayn comes with a choked cry, shaking apart into Liam’s capable touch.

Liam sits back up on his knees, hovering over Zayn and looking desperate. “Can I?”

“Yessss,” Zayn agrees without knowing what he’s agreeing to, just knows that for Liam the answer is always going to be yes.

Liam’s hand works quickly over his own length, efficient even in his desperation. Zayn reaches out to cup his balls, middle finger pressing firmly behind them. Liam comes hot and thick over Zayn’s flushed skin and it’s like watching art in motion. His head drops back to expose his lovely neck and his plush lips are red and swollen, his muscles are strained and arched and he’s beautiful in a way Zayn can’t quantify. 

It punches Zayn in the gut, how deep he is and how little he cares to extricate himself. He runs a soothing hand down Liam’s chest, playing with the dampened curls of chest hair. Liam drops down next to him on the bed, breathing hard, and tangles his fingers between Zayn’s.

“You’re perfect,” Liam whispers reverently.

Zayn grins. “I’m not, but I appreciate you thinking so.” He eyes the rapidly cooling come on his chest. “I should probably get this off me before it dries.”

“Can you leave it? Just a moment?” Liam looks nervous for some reason.

“Is this another scent thing?” Zayn is genuinely curious.

Liam flushes. “Kinda? And a possessive thing? It's all wrapped up in instinct. It's not a requirement but it makes me feel better? Calmer? I don't know how to explain. If it makes you uncomfortable…”

Zayn shakes his head swiftly. “I'm not uncomfortable. At least, not in the way you mean.” He smirks and rolls over onto Liam's chest. “But I'm all about sharing.”

Liam laughs, broad chest shaking beneath Zayn, and drops a kiss on his forehead. “Fair enough.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [youresoawkward](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youresoawkward/pseuds/youresoawkward) for looking this over for me. She's the bestest <3

Zayn has learned the hard way to sleep light in strange beds. He never fully descends into a deep sleep until he's safely behind the wards he’s spent considerable time and energy building. He had expected Liam’s bed to be no different, but his subconscious must have decided that a werewolf was security enough and settled into a deeper sleep.

Strangely, it is not the ring of the phone that rouses him, nor the low rumble of Liam’s voice, but the lack of warmth curled around him. Zayn wakes to the pale gray of predawn and cooling bed sheets behind him. Liam's voice filters in from the hallway, a low rumble that Zayn can't quite make out.

“I woke you,” Liam says softly as he enters the room.

Zayn shrugs, sending the sheets pooling around his waist. “From your expression, I needed to be awake anyway. Work?”

Liam nods grimly. “There's another body. Same as the last.”

“Same location?” Zayn asks.

“Approximately,” Liam answers. “Same park anyway. Is it significant?”

“Not sure,” Zayn says with another shrug, casting about for his discarded clothes. “I’m not aware of a particular magical or supernatural significance tied to the location, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

Liam strides to his dresser and retrieves a pair of sweats to toss at Zayn. “Here. One of us should be comfortable this early in the morning,” he offers. “I’ll go make coffee to go while you get dressed.”

Zayn rubs at his eyes and nods, stifling a yawn. He just now notices that Liam is already dressed in a suit, but he’s only raked his hair back and left the stubble. Some sacrifices to appearance must be made for early call outs, apparently. 

The sweatpants and hoodie are soft and smell faintly of Liam. Zayn resists the urge to bury his nose in the collar but just barely. He was looking forward to a lazy morning in bed getting to explore Liam’s body a little more thoroughly, dammit. He’s barely had a taste and he’s starving for more. 

“Ready?” Liam asks when Zayn makes his way downstairs. He holds out a travel mug.

“As I’m likely to get,” Zayn replies, taking the proffered cup greedily. “You?”

Liam sighs. “I suppose.” He pauses and frowns. “Um. You mentioned glamouring the mark yesterday?” 

“Is that a thing I need to do in this situation? Do you want me to?” If Zayn were not watching very closely he would think he’d imagined the brief flash of gold across Liam’s eyes. It’s all the answer he needs. 

“Maybe…” Liam trails off.

Zayn shakes his head. “You don’t want me to and I don’t mind. Let them think I’m a slag.”

Liam somehow manages to look both amused and gratified. He reaches out to press gently on the bruise at the side of Zayn’s neck and Zayn tilts his head to let him, taking pleasure in the slight ache. Liam’s pupils dilate at the motion and he takes a deep breath and snatches his hand away.

“You walking around in my clothes, wearing my mark is a distraction,” Liam confesses. “I like it more than I should.”

A smug kind of pleasure fills Zayn’s chest and he tries not to grin as broadly as he wants to. “Maybe you should pick me back up whenever your shift is over.”

Liam chuckles warmly. “I’m going to be knackered,” he warns.

“Then come sleep over,” Zayn suggests, surprising himself. He hasn’t had anyone in his bed in ages. He wants Liam there.

“Yeah, okay,” Liam agrees, locking the door behind them. He pauses just shy of the car. “Wait.”

Zayn halts obediently. Liam strides closer and tangles his hand in Zayn’s hair. He drags him in for a slow, thorough kiss that makes Zayn’s legs go all wobbly. Zayn clutches at Liam’s lapels and gives as good as he gets. Liam is warm all over, like a ward against the chilly air around them and he carries a hint of woods on his skin.

Eventually Liam pulls away with a slow smile. “Something to shore me up against the hell this day will be,” he explains, opening the passenger door.

“Any way I can help,” Zayn replies, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. 

Despite the circumstances, the drive back to the city is a good deal more relaxed than the drive out. Zayn feels settled in a way he hasn’t in a long time, the restless buzzing beneath his skin quieted like the magic running through him is content for once. Without a doubt it’s due entirely to Liam’s presence. 

It’s overcast again, the only tell of the rising sun the lightening in shades of gray above them. As they pull up to the scene, rain starts hitting the windshield in fat droplets. Liam curses under his breath. 

“I have an umbrella in the back,” he tells Zayn. “Stay put while I grab it.”

“M’not gonna melt, Li.” The nickname slips out, easy and natural, like he’s been using it for years. 

He can see Liam visibly struggle against voicing something cheesy, probably about sugar and sweetness. Instead he pats Zayn’s thigh and points at him with a mock-stern expression before exiting into the downpour. 

Liam reappears outside Zayn's window, hair damp and curling against his forehead. He's holding a black umbrella that's probably large enough to shelter three people from the storm and looking smug. Liam opens Zayn’s door and ushers him out like Zayn’s some sort of celebrity arriving at a premiere.

Zayn rolls his eyes but presses a quick kiss to Liam’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“You ready for this?” Liam asks, eyeing the small, somber group in clear ponchos across the field. 

“For inspecting a dead body that’s been ripped to shreds? Pretty much never, but it needs to be done,” Zayn replies with a sigh. 

Liam presses a comforting hand to the small of Zayn’s back and leads the way across the soaked grass. Water seeps in through the mesh of his borrowed trainers, causing a disgusting squelch with every step. Zayn curses himself for not borrowing a pair of boots instead, but they would have looked stupid with the sweats. Now he is going to suffer wet, cold feet for his commitment to aesthetics and it serves him right honestly. It’s a crime scene, not a fashion show he hears his mum say in his head.

“Singh!” Liam calls to a young man who looks like a drowned kitten even under his poncho. “Can you get the professor here outfitted?”

“Yes, sir,” Singh replies, looking grateful to have been given a task.

Liam turns to Zayn and tries to smile, but it looks forced. “As soon as you’re done, I’m calling you a cab home. There’s no sense in both of us suffering out here.”

“You’ll come by after?” Zayn asks again, just to be sure.

“It’ll be late,” Liam warns. 

“I know. It doesn’t matter. I want you to.” Zayn tries to inject how much he wants Liam around in his words, but it’s difficult when there are police milling about with curious ears. 

“Okay,” Liam replies with a genuine smile this time. “Okay. I will.”

Singh has returned with crime scene gear and seems to tweak to the fact that he’s interrupting a private moment. He looks hardly older than some of Zayn’s intro students, to be honest, with his big dark eyes and round face. Zayn takes pity on the poor kid and waves Liam off after surreptitiously squeezing his hip. 

“Singh, was it?” Zayn asks kindly.

The young man shifts into something close to attention. “PC Neeraj Singh, sir.”

Zayn laughs. “Relax. I'm not a superior. Zayn is fine. Only, I was wondering, would you mind holding this giant fuck off umbrella while I slip these on?”

Neeraj cracks a small but genuine smile, which was Zayn's intent, and takes the umbrella from him. “Of course. Uh, Hathaway says you're a warlock?”

Zayn pauses in shimmying into the paper jumpsuit to meet his curious gaze. “I am.”

“What can you do?” Neeraj asks excitedly.

“Most anything you can think of,” Zayn replies, biting back a laugh. “But there's a cost to all of it. Some things, like what I'm about to do here, require very little energy. Others, like teleportation, leave me near exhaustion.”

“You can _teleport_?”

“Am capable of, yes. Don't generally, though.” Zayn can tell the PC has taken a Harry Potter view of magic, which is not at all uncommon, especially among the general populace. Real magic has more of a personal cost, though, universal checks and balances against unlimited power. 

“What do you do here? At crime scenes, I mean,” Neeraj asks.

Zayn tries to balance while slipping the booties on and Neeraj steadies him by the elbow. “I look at the traces of aura left around the crime scene. Sometimes it helps to identify the killer.”

“That’s so cool!” Neeraj looks even younger in his enthusiasm.

Zayn can’t help but laugh. “Not everyone thinks so,” he says. “I think I’m ready?”

“Oh! Of course. No gloves?” Neeraj holds up the still packaged latex gloves.

“I don’t touch anything physical and they get in the way,” Zayn explains. “Can you make sure that umbrella gets back to DI Payne?”

“I will. It was nice to meet you,” Neeraj says sincerely as Zayn heads under the tarp that’s been erected over the crime scene proper.

“You too, Neeraj,” Zayn replies. For once he actually means it. Generally, meeting new people is rarely a positive experience. He has a feeling Liam knew exactly what he was doing when he picked Neeraj to assist him. 

Rain batters the top of the tarp until it’s a kind of white noise surrounding him. There are a few suspicious glances as he makes his way to the body, but mostly everyone looks weary. It’s still early and the weather is nasty and the body barely looks like it used to be a human being. Zayn’s stomach churns and he swallows hard against it.

Calling upon Sight is as easy as breathing, thankfully, because Zayn’s mind is all over the place. He very desperately wishes he were curled up in bed with Liam rather than crouched over a grisly crime scene. It takes a moment to register what he’s seeing. The trails surrounding the body are different, but hold a similar tinge of blackish red to the edges. It’s strange. Zayn has never seen anything like it before. 

As soon as he has seen all he’s going to see, Zayn stands up and moves away as quickly as he can without seeming like he’s escaping. Liam is hovering at the edge of the tarp looking grim and damp in his poncho. Zayn wants to hug him tightly, but pushes the desire down. Time enough for that later, when they aren’t surrounded by judgemental gazes.

“What did you see?” Liam asks quietly.

“It’s not the same were,” Zayn tells him in a hushed tone. “It’s a were, but not the same one.”

“Fuck,” Liam swears under his breath. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Zayn replies. “But I’m sure, yeah. The trace impressions are distinctly different.”

Liam rubs at his temples. “This is going to be a nightmare,” he predicts darkly. “You should get out of here. I called a cab for you.”

“Thank you,” Zayn murmurs, trying to infuse the words with all the things he can’t say with an audience. “I’ll see you later.”

“As soon as I can get away,” Liam promises.

\---

It’s officially mid-morning by the time Zayn gets home. Harry is curled up on a throw pillow like a cat, wings glittering prettily even in the overcast gray light. He raises his head drowsily as Zayn enters, but his eyes go wide and he bites his lip.

“So he really _did_ eat you,” Harry says suggestively, with a completely unnecessary eyebrow waggle.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Zayn’s feeling the effects of the early call and the drain of the crime scene.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently? You look like you’ve been mauled, mate.” Harry looks entirely too interested in Zayn’s sex life. 

Zayn shuffles off to the bathroom and flicks on the light. He stares at his reflection, both horrified and fascinated. The giant mark on his neck looks even more obscene today and it’s accompanied by a smattering of hickies ringing the base of his neck and disappearing down under his sweatshirt. His lips are still slightly swollen and red and his hair looks like it’s been sex-mussed. Which it most definitely has.

“Did you have as much fun as it looks like you’ve had?” Harry asks slyly, perching on the edge of the counter.

Zayn groans. “It was amazing. Right up until we got called to a crime scene at arse o’clock this morning.”

Harry makes a face. “Unpleasant.” He pauses and then laughs. “Do you mean to tell me the entire Met saw you looking like a werewolf devoured you whole?”

“Not the entire Met. Just a moderate group of cranky police.” This explains some of the scandalized looks he’d gotten. Also the more salacious ones. 

Harry laughs harder, clutching his stomach. “Classic.” He flies up and toward the door, still bobbing slightly from laughter. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon, but I baked orange currant scones. There’s clotted cream in the fridge.” 

“Thanks,” Zayn says faintly, pressing lightly on his bruises. He knows they go down his whole chest and he’s not embarrassed necessarily, although he prefers not to let the entire world in on his bedroom activities. Mostly he just wishes he were still in Liam’s bed, possibly with a continuation of last night’s activities.

Unfortunately, his werewolf detective maybe-boyfriend is still stuck at a rainy depressing crime scene. To be followed by less-rainy but still depressing paperwork and whatever else he does when there’s been a murder. Zayn imagines there are crime boards and things, but maybe he’s just seen one too many crime dramas. 

In the kitchen he sets the kettle to boil and grabs a scone. He almost starts eating it over the counter, but can just imagine the disapproving look Harry will give him and grabs a plate instead. The clotted cream is in the fridge in a fussy little china bowl that Zayn absolutely does not remember owning. There are pink roses around the rim for god’s sake.

It’s delicious, of course. Everything Harry makes is delicious and Zayn is never sure if that’s magic or not. All the same, the scone and tea are exactly what he needs after the morning he’s had.

Zayn spends most of his day puttering, unable to truly focus on any one thing for very long. He had thought to get a jump start on grading some essays, but he finds himself re-reading the same paragraph three times without registering the words and gives up. Mostly he finds himself sitting and then getting back up to nervously pace some more.

“You’re making me tired,” Harry complains from his nest on the couch. “Find something to do.”

Zayn sighs. “I’m trying. I can’t focus on anything.”

“Did the crime scene bother you that much? You’ve seen dead bodies before.” 

“There’s something off about it,” Zayn tries to explain. “I can’t quantify it, but there’s something _wrong_ about this.”

Harry makes a face. “People are dead. That’s pretty wrong.”

“No. The energy signatures were all weird. I don’t know. Like, tainted somehow?” Zayn frowns and rubs at his temples like that might help in some way. “And one random attack by one were outside of a full moon is rare, even two attacks by the same were outside of a full moon would be rare, but two attacks by two _different_ weres? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Have you thought about asking Louis about it?” Harry asks, pulling his hair up into a bun. Zayn can’t see how he secures it. Fae magic, maybe.

“Why the fuck would I ask Lou about this? He’s not a were.” Zayn doesn’t understand the leaps in logic Harry sometimes makes. 

“No,” Harry replies slowly. “But he knows everything about everyone in the community.”

Okay, fair point actually. Louis does have a tendency to have a ridiculous amount of gossip about the goings on of the supernatural community. Zayn supposes that when one has been around as long as Louis, it only makes sense to understand the value of information as currency. 

“I’ll think about it,” Zayn says reluctantly. “We didn’t part on good terms last time. He got a bit shirty with me.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you did nothing to provoke him. The both of you are like teenage girls, I swear. But he’s not still mad. You know he gets all worked up and blows up and then cools off right after.”

“Fine.” There’s no way Zayn is getting around this and it might prove to be useful. Harry will keep bugging him about it if he doesn’t contact Louis. “I’ll text him. Then we’ll let him decide if he wants to see me, alright?”

Harry blinks slowly and smiles in an irritatingly self-satisfied manner. “Good.” He rolls onto his side and stretches his wings behind him. “Now. What else is bothering you? It’s not just the murders making you all jumpy.”

Zayn bites his lip and averts his gaze. “I might have asked Liam to stay over tonight.”

“Here?” Harry’s eyebrows go up in surprise.

“Yes, here,” Zayn replies snarkily. “Haven’t got any other flats, have I?”

Harry’s expression lets him know in no uncertain terms that his attitude is unappreciated. “Are you regretting it?”

“Of course not!” Zayn doesn’t even have to think about it. If anything, he wishes Liam were here already. 

“Then why?”

Zayn isn’t entirely sure, actually. He has an abundance of nervous energy for no reason he can put his finger on. He figures it’s the waiting that’s making him jumpy, but he can’t say why.

“I don’t know,” Zayn admits. “I thought it might be because I haven’t invited anyone to stay over in ages, but I don’t think that’s it. I want him here.”

“Moving rather quickly, aren’t you?” 

Zayn shrugs. Everything with Liam so far has felt easy and natural. He’s not questioning it for once, just letting things unfold. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“Okay.” Harry’s demeanor is entirely accepting. “Well, whatever the reason, you might want to clean your room. Wouldn’t want to scare him off with your poor housekeeping skills just yet.”

Zayn wants to argue just to be contrary, but Harry definitely has a point. His room is a mess of clothes and books and he's pretty sure the left half of the bed is still covered in research papers. If it weren't for Harry, the rest of the flat would be in a similar state.

“I hate when you're right,” Zayn complains.

“I'm always right, Zaynie,” Harry chirps innocently, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He’s officially the worst.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Zayn rolls his eyes and heads back to his bedroom.

Zayn stands in the doorway for a moment, surveying the mess. He sighs heavily and flicks on the radio before beginning with the clothes strewn across the floor and slung over the back of his chair. The music and repetitive motions serve to soothe his nerves a bit, lulling him into a more zen state of being.

Once the clothes are sorted, Zayn gathers all of the books and papers and piles them semi-neatly on the desk. He doesn’t think Liam expects a pristine environment from him, but it wouldn’t do to foster false expectations. Zayn is a bit of a messy person and if they’re going to pursue this relationship, Liam is going to figure that out sooner or later. 

“Are you going to dust?” Harry asks from behind Zayn’s left shoulder. 

“No,” Zayn replies flatly. 

Harry looks crestfallen for a moment, then perks up. “You should at least change your sheets. Liam deserves clean sheets, yeah?”

“I don’t think I have another set of sheets,” Zayn says, eyeing his bed critically. Come to think of it, he can’t remember the last time he washed them which is kind of gross actually.

“They’re in the linen closet,” Harry informs him.

“I don’t have a linen closet.”

“I made you one.” Harry is doing that thing where he hovers up and down at a fast pace. It usually indicates that he’s anxious.

“You...made me a linen closet.” Zayn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Are you telling me that my sheets and towels and things are hanging out in the fairy realm?”

“Ehm.” Harry looks shifty. “Sort of? It’s more like a pocket dimension? No one has access to it but us.”

“Right.” This is what Zayn gets for rooming with a fairy: surprise coasters and linen closets. It could be worse, he supposes. “Show me.”

Harry flits down the hall and makes a ta-da gesture toward a door that definitely wasn’t there when Zayn moved in. It looks like all the other doors in the flat, though, with its painted white pressboard and plain gold doorknob. Zayn turns the knob with a small amount of trepidation, but the contents are a boring standard linen closet comprised of towels and sheets neatly folded on shelves. It’s only when he reaches inside that he can feel the tell-tale tingle of magic.

“Alright,” Zayn states, still unsure how to feel about this development. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome!” Harry chirps happily. His grin is bright and so self-satisfied that Zayn can’t quite bring himself to show how nonplussed he is by all this.

“I’ll just change those sheets then,” Zayn states rather awkwardly, grabbing a new set from his magical cupboard.

“Liam will appreciate it!” Harry calls after him.

Zayn doesn’t think Liam will be in any state to assess the cleanliness of his sheets when he arrives. Chances are good that he’ll just be grateful for a flat place to lie down on. All the same, Harry really is just trying to be helpful. In his own way, of course. 

After fussing with the fitted sheet and finally getting frustrated enough to use magic on it, Zayn feels the day catching up with him. His eyes droop heavily and he crawls onto the mattress, dragging the duvet over himself and dropping into a deep sleep.

When he wakes, the sky has begun to turn dark and Harry is dancing on top of the desk to Rihanna playing on the radio. Zayn watches for a moment, entertained. He has no idea what Harry is doing in his room, but there are worse things to wake up to. Apparently simply being fae does not imbue one with grace.

“What are you doing in here?” Zayn finally asks, voice cracking from sleep.

Harry pauses mid-shimmy. “I got bored. And this is the only radio in the house.”

“Okay,” Zayn says slowly. 

He leaves Harry to his gyrations and heads toward the kitchen, stomach grumbling unhappily. Zayn isn’t feeling up to making anything more difficult than toast and canned soup. Luckily he has both bread and a few cans in his cupboards. He really is past due for a grocery shop, though.

Zayn munches on a piece of toast while waiting on the soup to heat in a pot. He wishes his magic didn’t short out microwaves. Unfortunately, the last time he attempted to use one it nearly started a fire. No cooking shortcuts for him. It’s probably a trade off for magic making various other tasks easier. 

It’s still early evening when Zayn finishes his meal and washes the dishes. He doesn’t expect Liam till later and hasn’t heard anything at all from him throughout the day regarding his ETA. There’s no point in anxiously watching the clock. Liam will arrive when he arrives.

After reorganizing his bookshelves, Zayn finally settles onto the couch with his lesson plan for the next week. It’s hardly enough to keep his interest, really just a reworking of the lesson plan from last semester. The words swim a bit in front of him until Harry drops Zayn’s glasses into his lap.

“Stop being vain,” Harry scolds. “You’ll ruin your eyes that way.”

Zayn makes a face, but slips the glasses on. He knows if he doesn’t it will result in a headache in a bit. 

“I’m out for the night,” Harry announces imperiously.

“Okay. Where are you going?” Zayn asks. As far as he knows, Harry doesn’t spend time with anyone but him. 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Zayn shrugs. He would, actually. “None of my business, I guess.” 

“I’ll be home tomorrow evening. If I’m not, you have my permission to do a location spell on me,” Harry says, like he’s doing Zayn a favor. 

“Alright. Well. Have fun I guess,” Zayn replies. 

Harry grins lasciviously. “Oh I will.”

With that Harry disappears into what Zayn assumes is the fairy realm, but he doesn’t really understand exactly how it works. It’s possible Harry moves from one place to another through pockets in space and time. There’s probably a mathematical equation that explains it, but that’s above Zayn’s paygrade. He’s really more into the history and sociology of everything. 

Time passes achingly slowly as Zayn shuffles through his notes, his flat empty and quiet in Harry’s absence. Finally there is a tentative rap at the door, more a light brush of knuckles against the wood than a proper knock. Zayn hastily sets aside his papers and rushes to open the door while trying not to look as desperate as he feels.

“Is it too late?” falls out of Liam’s mouth the second the door is open.

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” Zayn scolds gently, dragging Liam inside.

Liam looks worn paper thin, his lips chapped and drawn downwards at the corners. His broad shoulders are bowed and tense. Zayn slides his hands up to knead at the muscles at the base of Liam’s neck and Liam drops his head to Zayn’s shoulder with a grateful moan.

“You look knackered,” Zayn murmurs into Liam’s ear. 

“Well spotted,” Liam mumbles back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Liam shakes his head. “Not tonight. Tonight I just want to go to bed.”

A tiny frisson of excitement shivers down Zayn’s spine. He knows Liam’s too worn out to do more than sleep, but just having Liam there warming the mattress next to him is better than a random pull could ever be. He’s in deep, but he still doesn’t mind.

He threads his fingers with Liam’s and gently tugs him toward the bedroom. Liam shuffles behind him, half-asleep already. Zayn maneuvers him to the bed and lightly pushes him down to sit on the edge. He slides to his knees to tug at the damp knots of Liam’s shoelaces. A soft gasp calls his attention and he looks up to see something like lust trying to rise out of the exhaustion.

“Not tonight,” Zayn soothes, pressing a tender kiss to Liam’s knee through his slacks. “Tomorrow. All you want.”

“Promises,” Liam mumbles. 

Zayn chuckles and tugs Liam’s shoes off. “Spirit and flesh, darling.”

“Mmmf,” Liam argues incoherently.

Liam allows Zayn to disrobe him with the sleepy acquiescence of a toddler. Zayn stops at undershirt and pants because he doesn’t want to take liberties. Liam’s hair falls in a curl over his forehead and his eyes have drooped shut, soothing the worry lines on his face. Zayn’s heart clenches in his chest, sweet and painful at once. 

“Sleep, babes,” Zayn whispers, pulling the covers up over Liam and brushing a kiss to his temple.

He’s so sure Liam’s down for the count when he gets up to turn the light off that the large, warm hand around his wrist startles him. Liam tugs at him ineffectually and whines.

“Stay.”

Affection rushes warm through him and he crawls over Liam to the other side and magics the light off. It goes dark with an ominous pop and Zayn winces. He hopes he just blew the bulb and not the fuse again. Magic and electricity, fuck.

Liam rolls over to pin him to the mattress with an arm across his chest, like he’s afraid Zayn will run off. No chance of that, even if they weren’t in Zayn’s bed, but it’s cute. Liam shuffles around until he’s a long line of heat against Zayn’s back and his nose is pressed against Zayn’s nape. 

Zayn hadn’t thought he was tired, but Liam’s cuddly heat is dragging him under. He falls asleep with a smile on his lips and Liam’s soft snuffly snores in his ear. 

\---

Zayn is melting. He’s going to die of heatstroke. He kicks the duvet off him in search of cool air that he can breathe. Behind him Liam grumbles and tugs him back toward the scorching heat. It’s almost bearable without the covers on. Almost. Especially once he realizes that Liam is hard against him. Zayn grinds back before he can stop himself.

“Good morning,” Liam mumbles against his neck, fingers tightening over Zayn’s hip to keep him from moving away. 

“Too hot,” Zayn whines, not yet fully awake. “Too many clothes.”

Liam laughs, chest rumbling pleasantly against Zayn’s back. “Can’t argue with you there. Why didn’t you get undressed?”

“Someone demanded that I get in bed,” Zayn grumbles. “And then pinned me with his giant arm.”

“Rude.” 

Liam is clearly still laughing at him, but he’s also stripping the sweatshirt off and over Zayn’s head. The rush of cool air to his exposed chest is delicious. Especially given that Liam has taken the opportunity to begin exploring the expanse of shoulder with his tongue and teeth. The juxtaposition between the ambient air and the searing heat of Liam’s mouth goes straight to his dick. At some point in the night Liam must have stripped because he’s a solid line of bare flesh against Zayn’s back.

“More,” Zayn gasps. “I need more.”

“More?” Liam asks with a teasing lilt. He slides his hands up Zayn’s chest to roll his nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. 

Zayn’s dick throbs and he writhes, slightly embarrassed by the intensity of his reaction. He’s always been sensitive and not many have figured it out. He can practically feel Liam smirking behind him, pleased with himself.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Zayn shoots for snarky and ends up somewhere around breathless and needy instead. Dammit.

“Was thinking about it,” Liam answers, voice rough and a little breathless himself. It mollifies Zayn somewhat. “Been thinking about it. Rather a lot.”

Zayn flips around so he’s facing Liam and can get at his mouth. “Me too,” he confesses between lush, wet kisses. 

Liam slides his hands down the back of the borrowed sweatpants that Zayn’s still wearing to grope at his ass. His broad palms perfectly cup the cheeks and his fingers spread Zayn slightly making him buck against Liam’s thigh. Liam shoves the sweatpants down until Zayn can wriggle out of them. 

“Lube?” Liam asks.

Zayn grins. “Wanna see something cool?” He closes his eyes and focuses. It’s a simple teleportation spell that he’s been using since he was 14 and got too lazy to pull out the lube when jacking off. It shouldn't take any concentration but he’s feeling a little compromised at the moment.

“What?” Liam’s fingers jerk against him, smearing cool lube all over the place.

“I just moved it from the bottle to your fingers,” Zayn explains. He smirks and coats Liam’s dick in lube with another burst of the spell.

“Fuck,” Liam growls. 

Zayn bats his eyelashes. “Just trying to help.”

“You’re a brat,” Liam responds with a filthy kiss that implies he doesn’t mind much.

“Hurry up, then,” Zayn urges, shoving his ass back against Liam’s hand.

Liam narrows his eyes and shifts so Zayn is spread across his lap, knees wide enough apart he can’t get purchase. Liam’s throwing so much heat beneath him that Zayn swears he can feel his sweat sizzling. Finally Liam breaches him with his thick, capable fingers and Zayn swears roughly.

It’s been ages. He doesn’t trust anyone this close, usually. Zayn’s hooked up here and there after his last disastrous relationship ended, but he hasn’t trusted anyone in his bed in ages, let alone allowed them inside him. With Liam it feels like he’s being flayed open and every nerve ending exposed and it’ll be fine because Liam won’t judge him for anything he sees in the wreckage, will help piece him back together with patient careful hands.

“You ready?” Liam asks, mouthing along Zayn’s jaw.

“Yes,” Zayn hisses. “Yes yes yes.”

Liam angles himself and pushes slowly, inexorably upward, into him. Zayn can feel his spine melting, his muscles becoming loose and useless. He tips forward onto Liam’s broad chest, panting and weak. It’s too much and not enough all at once, like he’s being split open, turned inside out and can’t tell if it’s good or bad or both. He’s not sure he’ll survive this. 

“Hey, you good?” Liam asks, concerned. He stops and it lets Zayn fill his lungs with air.

Panic recedes and his muscles regain solidity. Zayn props himself up, fingers playing with Liam’s chest hair as a distraction. “It’s a lot. Give me a minute.”

Liam cradles Zayn’s jaw, running his thumb over his cheekbone to wipe away tears that Zayn didn’t even know were there. “We can stop. It’s fine, I promise.”

Zayn clears his throat. “I think I’m good. It’s, um. It’s been a really long time and I don’t do this with just anyone and it’s a lot? It’s real. Like. Real.” 

After that bout of utter gibberish Zayn wants to bang his head against a wall. Ordinarily he’s far more articulate, but he doesn’t know how to express that it’s as much emotional as it is physical, perhaps moreso. He’s not accustomed to letting anyone this close. He wants it, wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was a bit terrified. He thinks he’s been lying to himself some lately.

“God,” Liam breathes, leaning in to brush a kiss over Zayn’s lips. “I want to give you _everything_. This isn’t fucking normal.”

That’s it. That’s it exactly. “It’s not a spell,” Zayn says quickly. He would know for sure if it were. Foreign magic exerted over him feels oily over his aura. “We’re not under the influence of anything. I think. I think it’s just us?”

Liam takes a deep breath and nods slowly. “Slow down or move forward?”

Zayn takes a moment to think about it. He’s safe, methodical, doesn’t rush headlong into things. It’s why he’s still alive. All the same, he’s not letting this go. His magic fucking _purrs_ in Liam’s presence, settles in a way it never has before. That has to mean something. He’s always listened to his magic before, let it guide him when he couldn’t figure it out with logic.

“Forward,” Zayn says finally. 

“Okay,” Liam agrees solemnly, like a vow.

Choice made, Zayn’s head clears and he bends down to kiss Liam, deep and thorough, trying to communicate all the things he cannot find the words to say. Liam’s groan rumbles through both of them, vibrating Zayn’s chest. He’s suddenly aware that Liam is still half inside him and hardening back up, stretching him incrementally. As far as unique experiences go, it’s in his top ten.

Zayn takes a deep breath and slides down the rest of the way, pausing to relish how full he feels before getting his knees under him and drawing up. Liam is staring at him like he’s the center of the universe, expression open and soft. Zayn steadies himself and begins a slow, steady rhythm riding Liam. He manages until his thighs are quivering, muscles protesting the atypical motion. 

Liam takes over, physically lifting Zayn up off his cock and back down, lifting his own hips incrementally higher each time to meet the downward thrust like he’s chasing the sensation. The strength it takes to lift Zayn repetitively like he weighs nothing is definitely shoving Zayn closer to orgasm. Liam’s biceps bulge and his abs ripple appealingly with every thrust and he’s so hot, metaphorically and literally, that Zayn might combust.

“I’m close,” Liam grates, tightening his grip.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes, wrapping a hand around himself.

It takes very little to have him coming across Liam’s abs with a wordless cry. Liam desperately pulls him down for a messy kiss as he comes hard and deep inside Zayn. They lie there for a bit, sharing breath more than kissing. 

“That was...intense,” Liam finally says shakily. “I’ve never…”

“Me neither,” Zayn agrees. “I don’t know what it is. Exceptionally good chemistry?”

“Maybe. Did you know that your tattoos light up when you orgasm?”

“What?” Zayn looks down at his arm like they might still be giving a light show. “That’s never happened before.”

“They did at my place too, I just didn’t mention it because I thought it was a cool warlock thing or something.” Liam slips out of Zayn with a hiss. “It’s not?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. We’re way off the grid here, Liam.” It feels like he should be scared, but post-orgasm endorphins are swamping his brain and he can’t quite make it past mildly concerned at the moment. 

“Is your magic acting up? Should you call someone about it? Are there magic doctors or something?” Clearly Liam is more worried than Zayn is.

Zayn frowns. “No one I trust.” His brain offers up a solution and he almost groans. It’s the safest option but it’s not going to be a pleasant one. “There might be someone who’s heard of this before, though.”

“We should go.” Liam looks ready to jump out of bed and pull on clothes but his stomach growls so loud Zayn can feel it.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks.

Liam looks abashed. “Um, noon-ish yesterday?”

“Liam! I’m surprised you didn’t pass out on me,” Zayn chides. He’s not going to point out how many more calories Liam’s lycan metabolism needs than the average human, but he makes his disapproval clear.

“I know. Yesterday sucked.” Liam looks defeated again.

Zayn kisses him sweetly and then slides off Liam's thighs to stand. “I know. We’ll shower and then eat. I don’t have anything here but there’s a place down the street that serves a decent full English. You need the calories.”

Liam looks shifty for a moment. “Um.”

Oh jesus. “Really? I feel rank, Li. Can’t you just rub up against me after the shower or something?”

“Yes, yeah, of course. Sorry.” Liam looks stricken and Zayn immediately feels awful. It's not his fault that his wolf has needs.

He pulls Liam to a sitting position and settles himself back in Liam’s lap, leaning in to murmur low and hot into his ear. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not wrong or bad, babe. But a quick shower isn’t going to change the fact that I have your come in me and your marks scattered all over my body. I promise I’ll look like yours to anyone with a single working one of the five senses.”

Liam moans lightly and wraps his arms around Zayn. “You’re right. Thank you. I’m not usually this crazy, I promise. My instincts are in overdrive.”

“I figured. Come shower with me. The water pressure is shit, but we never run out of hot water.”

Zayn heads for the bathroom, knowing Liam will follow. He sets the temperature just this side of scalding and steps in. The bathroom is another area Harry’s managed to infiltrate with his decorating skills. There are soaps shaped like tiny perfect seashells in a crystal dish to the side of the sink and a guest hand towel with lace trim. Zayn does not entertain guests, present company excluded of course.

The shower curtain is sheer enough that he can see Liam through it, watching him. Zayn peeks his head around the curtain and arches an eyebrow.

“You joining me?”

Liam smiles back. “Enjoying the view.”

“It’s better up close,” Zayn teases.

He ducks his head under the stream of water, letting it sluice over his sore muscles and moans. It feels amazing. Strong hands fall on his shoulders, thumbs digging lightly at the knots that have formed there and Zayn almost loses his balance it feels so good.

“Someday I’m going to demand a full body massage,” Zayn warns muzzily.

“I look forward to it,” Liam rumbles, popping the cap of the shower gel.

Liam starts with Zayn’s back and takes his time to wash every inch of him from behind his ears to between his toes. Zayn is practically jelly by the time he finishes. He could get used to this, to Liam pampering him and loving him. Liam quickly washes himself and steps out to grab a towel to lavish the same attention to drying Zayn as he did washing him. 

“Careful, I’ll start expecting this sort of thing,” Zayn says as airily as he can over the affection flooding his senses.

Liam presses a light kiss to Zayn’s cheekbone. “Any time you like.”

Zayn kind of wants to drag Liam back to bed to lazily make out for the next few hours, but there are things to do and Liam’s well-being to consider. Instead he searches his dresser for something Liam can wear. Luckily most of his comfy clothes are slightly oversized. Unluckily, most of them are in a pile needing a wash. He manages to find clean trackies and shirts for both of them. Barely. His own shirt might be from the to-wash pile.

“I get what you mean about the clothes thing,” Zayn says, eyeing the way Liam’s muscles fill out his tee appreciatively.

Liam ducks his head and flushes which is ten kinds of adorable. His damp hair is drying into curls and he looks boyish and beautiful and it makes Zayn’s heart hurt. Unable to help himself, Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s neck and presses warm, shallow kisses to his full lips. Liam’s hands press against the small of Zayn’s back to hold him close.

“They smell like you,” he rumbles softly. “I like it.”

“Let’s get you fed,” Zayn murmurs, reluctantly pulling away.

\---

Liam devours his own meal and about half of Zayn’s before settling back with a contented sigh. “So much better.”

Zayn sips at his coffee and doesn’t bother to hide his besotted smile. “Good. You’ll need your strength for this next bit.”

“You’re being very cagey about this. Who are we going to see? Are they dangerous or something?” 

“Yes,” Zayn replies honestly. “But not to us. At least, not last time I checked.”

“Last time you checked?” Liam frowns at him.

Zayn scratches at his jaw. “Complete honesty, Liam, no one I know is safe. It’s more about who’s aligned with me at any given moment.”

“I keep forgetting you’re not just a magical professor,” Liam confesses. 

“Most of the time that’s what I am.” Zayn shrugs. “I just also have a lot of run-ins with the supernatural community thanks to my status.”

“I don’t like you in danger,” Liam says darkly.

“Me neither. I try to avoid it as much as I can, but sometimes that’s not possible.” Zayn senses they could go round this issue for hours and stands up, putting a temporary end to it. “I’ve got the check. Get us a cab?”

Liam looks like he's going to protest, but nods his acquiescence and by the time Zayn's done paying he's already in the cab. It's a quiet ride. Zayn understands Liam's desire to protect. It's part of his biological makeup, part of being lycan, but he's going to need to figure out that Zayn can handle his own.

Nerves twist Zayn's stomach in knots as they exit the cab and head down a filthy alley. This is feeling like a bad idea. The door he needs is beaten and rusted and looks like it hasn't been used in years. That's by design. Zayn worked the enchantment himself. He knocks briskly.

After a very long, very tense moment the door creaks open. Zayn can’t even react before Liam is stepping in front of him, eyes glowing and teeth elongated and bared. He’s growling in the back of his throat,

“ _Ulfric_ ,” Louis hisses. “What the fuck are _you_ doing on my doorstep?”

Zayn pokes his head around Liam and sees Louis with his fangs bared and eyes gone black. “Jesus fucking christ, you two. Put away the teeth.”

Louis looks at Zayn, eyes fading back to their normal bright blue. “Oh. Zayn. This cur with you?”

Liam growls some more and Zayn swats his arm. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” he says coolly, thoroughly unimpressed.

“I didn’t know you were planning on coming to Tomlinson,” Liam grates, finally sheathing his teeth. “He’s a menace. He almost killed one of my pack.”

Louis tilts his head up derisively. “No one died.”

“No thanks to you,” Liam snarls. 

Zayn turns to face Liam. “Look, I need to do this consult. Do you want to wait out here for me?”

“Fuck no,” Liam replies vehemently, glaring over Zayn’s shoulder at Louis.

“Oh good. This’ll be fun,” Zayn mutters, turning back around. “Lou, I need to discuss some things with you. Mind if we come in?”

“Does your pet shed?” Louis asks snidely.

“That’s racist,” Zayn points out. “And you’re an asshole.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine. Sorry. Whatever. Give me a minute.”

Zayn shifts uncomfortably while Louis ducks back inside. He levels an unimpressed look at Liam and mouths, ‘behave.’ Liam gives him a glare that clearly asks, ‘what about him?’ Zayn shrugs. As far as he knows there’s not an entity on earth or any other realm that can exert control over Louis Tomlinson. Anyone who has tried has found themselves exceedingly sorry. Or dead.

“Come in,” Louis intones from the doorway, breaking up their silent conversation. He dramatically sweeps an arm to usher them in. 

Zayn bites back a sigh. He forgot how big a drama queen a centuries old vampire could be. “Thank you.”

The rusted, innocuous door leads into a hallway of arched ceilings and intricate molding. There’s a chandelier the size of a Prius hanging over their heads. Liam gawps up at it before catching himself and going back to glowering. Louis waves them toward the couch, a large victorian monstrosity of red velvet and mahogany. It’s possibly the least comfortable thing Zayn has ever sat upon. 

Louis sashays to the wet bar and pours himself something dark out of a crystal decanter into a heavy glass. “I’d offer you refreshment, but I’m hoping you won’t stay,” Louis announces with a sharp grin.

Zayn tries to find purchase on the couch that appears to want him to slide to the floor. The thing is, he knows this is all for show. Louis’ real room for receiving guests is through the heavy brocade curtains and includes an 80” flat screen and a cushy leather couch that Zayn slept on for 3 months once. 

“It will hopefully only take a short amount of your time,” Zayn says tersely. 

Between the couch of discomfort and Liam’s glowering mass of wolf instinct next to him, Zayn is not having a fun afternoon. Add to that the fact that his ass definitely remembers how big Liam’s cock is and how recently it was shoved inside him, Zayn resigns himself to shifting uncomfortably for the next however long. 

Louis heads to a large, squat leather chair that looks far more comfortable. He settles gracefully and crosses his legs. Before Zayn can open his mouth to begin, Louis leans forward and sniffs delicately before recoiling in horror.

“Oh my god, Zayn. Are you _fucking_ him?” Louis looks scandalized. It’s an act. No one who has lived as long as he has is shocked by anything at all.

“We’re _dating_ ,” Zayn replies through gritted teeth. Louis needs to be punched in the face. He’s tempted to go ahead and let Liam have at it. 

“Even worse,” Louis proclaims. “You used to have taste, Malik.”

Anger roils under his skin and Zayn clenches his fists. Louis gets under his skin like no one else. He’s also a great ally and a decent friend when he’s not being a total twat. They’ve been going around like this for years; cycling through friends to adversaries and back again. Zayn has a suspicion that Louis is just keeping himself entertained but he knows exactly what buttons to push.

“Says the man who fucked a shade,” Zayn spits back.

Louis reclines elegantly and smirks. “Ah, one must try anything once. Did you know he had a forked tongue? He was very...talented with it.” 

“It was mostly non-corporeal, Louis. And I don’t think they identify gender the way we do.”

Louis shrugs. “There did seem to be some extra orifices. And I was distracting it so you could open a portal to send it back so it’s really not at all a comparable situation. You seem to have chosen this. Your boy scout wolf is hardly the type to force your hand.”

“Fine. We’re off topic.” Zayn really wishes he were drinking right now.

“Well, really, you haven’t chosen a topic,” Louis points out.

Zayn rubs at his temples and shifts his weight from one ass cheek to the other. It doesn’t help. “What do you know about the recent shifter attacks?”

Louis’ spine stiffens and he narrows his eyes. “That’s what this is about? I know that the humans are terrified and that makes them dangerous.”

“That’s not exactly breaking news,” Zayn says. If he put up with Louis’ bullshit just for this he’s going to scream.

“Tell me, Z. If, after the personhood laws passed, people started showing up on the Met’s doorstep drained of blood, what would your first conclusion be?” Louis cocks an eyebrow and waits.

Zayn’s brain whirls. “I’d assume someone was sabotaging the legislation,” he says slowly, pieces clicking together. “You think someone with a grudge against weres is behind this?”

“I think it’s worth investigating,” Louis replies, serious for the first time since they arrived. “I would expect more attacks in any case.”

“The second one was a Tiger,” Liam interjects softly, lacing his fingers through Zayn’s.

“What the fuck is a Tiger doing here?” Zayn asks. Weretigers are rare, especially in Europe.

“If it’s someone with a grudge, they won’t stop until the villagers are rioting with pitchforks and torches.” Louis purses his lips. “Fear mixed with hatred and intolerance is a hell of a cocktail for violence.”

“They’re already talking about curfews,” Liam adds.

“Next step is registration,” Louis points out. “You’re all animals anyway, right? It’s for the good of the populace to have you all identified on a neat little list. For everyone’s safety, including yours.”

Liam grips Zayn’s hand tighter. “How could they possibly find everyone? A lot of us aren’t out.”

Louis takes an indulgent swallow of his drink and smiles mirthlessly. “A simple blood test will out a were, Ulfric. Personal rights tend to not matter in these cases.”

Zayn wants to argue, but there’s nothing to argue against. He’s right and it’s terrifying. It’s all too easy to see how it would play out. “How are they doing it?”

Louis waggles his fingers. Liam frowns. “Jazz hands?”

“Magic,” Louis says with a withering look. “The bad old kind. The blood and entrails and sacrifice kind.”

Liam looks at Zayn. “Is that possible? Could someone control a shift with magic?”

“There’s not a lot that magic can’t do,” Zayn says slowly. “If they’re willing to pay the price for it. Something like this disturbs the natural order in a big way.”

“A disturbance.” Liam’s mouth twists. Zayn can practically see his brain working the problem out. It’s pretty sexy. “A big enough disturbance that you could track it?”

Zayn contemplates this. “Maybe. I need to research the spells they might be using. That’ll take some time. I can’t just ask around about it. The magic community gets touchy about old magic. They like to pretend it never happened and we’re all squeaky clean and above such barbarism.”

“Morons,” Louis mutters. He doesn’t hold a particularly high opinion of any supernatural community. It’s probably a side effect of having seen a couple hundred years of their history first hand.

It feels better to have a plan, however theoretical it is. At least they’re not just reacting to the carnage after the fact and watching the fallout. He doesn’t know what to do about the government piece. Hopefully Liam will be able to hold them off from asking for an emergency session. 

“So this has been fun, lads, will you be going now?” Louis asks wryly. He gives Zayn a piercing stare. “Or was there something else?”

Zayn had completely forgotten about his glowy tattoo sex problem but now it rushes back and he flushes. “Er. My tattoos have started to glow.”

“They look pretty normal to me,” Louis states.

“Um, intermittently glowy,” Zayn clarifies. “When I orgasm.”

Sheer delight lights up Louis’ entire being. Zayn will be getting shit about this for _years_. “Ohhh, _that_ kind of glowing.” He waggles his eyebrows at Liam. “You must be one hell of a shag.”

“ _Lou_ ,” Zayn pleads, mortified. “Do you know what this is or not?”

Louis laughs. “That’s simple. Your magic likes him, babe. A lot.”

“That’s all? Just my magic gaining sentience and appreciating Liam’s assets?” Zayn is skeptical.

“How the fuck are you High Warlock? Is no one teaching you children about soulmate magic anymore?” 

Zayn bristles. “I don’t believe in soulmates,” he says stiffly.

“Who gives a fuck if you believe in them?” Louis rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t mean they don’t exist. It doesn’t happen much anymore, but a soulmate is definitely advantageous. He’ll be stronger and quicker and you’ll be more powerful. It’s a cosmic win win. Also, I hear the sex is pretty fantastic.”

Zayn scowls at him. “How come I haven’t heard of it outside of cheesy fiction?”

“How jazzed are the elders about encouraging talent?” Louis asks. “You’re the youngest High Warlock in history and that’s not because they like you. It’s because you’ve the potential to be more powerful than the lot of them combined. They’re afraid of a power grab and want to keep you under their thumb. You think they’d tell you about ways you could be even _more_ powerful?”

“That can’t be true.” Zayn’s mind is whirling, trying to find proof that what Louis is saying is accurate. 

“I wasn’t just out for a late night stroll when I saved you in that alley. Did you never ask what an elemental was doing in East London?”

“I was a bit distracted by almost losing an arm,” Zayn says dryly. His introduction to Louis was rather fraught.

“It was an assassin,” Louis tells him, tone sharp as a blade. “And when they couldn’t kill you by sending monsters after you, they promoted you to High Warlock to keep you under control.”

Everything Zayn thought he knew about himself just got blown apart with the finesse of a nuclear explosion. He thinks he might throw up. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” he croaks.

“It wasn’t the right time,” Louis replies. At least he looks a little sympathetic. Or as sympathetic as Louis ever gets.

“Sure.” Zayn blinks rapidly. “We need to go. I need to go.”

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and the walls are too close and the edges of his vision are going grey. His chest feels like it’s being squeezed slowly by steel bands. Zayn is distantly aware of Liam gathering him up and helping him out the door and back into the alley. The cold, damp air is a slap to the face and helps a bit.

“Breathe, baby,” Liam murmurs. “Match me, okay? In and out. Slow and easy. That’s it, just like that.”

Zayn breathes in tandem with Liam until the panic has receded and he can think clearly again. “Thank you,” he says softly.

Liam’s hands cup Zayn’s face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. “Are you okay? You had a lot of information thrown at you and if you need to process it with me I’m here. And if you need to process it by yourself I’ll be around whenever you’re ready.”

“Do you believe the soulmates thing?” Zayn blurts out. It’s not the most important revelation, but it’s the only one he can parse right now.

Liam smiles gently at him. “I do. It makes sense. But it’s fine if you don’t.”

“No, it explains a lot of things actually,” Zayn states. He steps forward to bury his face in Liam’s chest. He smells warm and familiar and safe. “I’m okay with it.”

“You know,” Liam says lightly. “It occurs to me I’ve been rather shit at dating you.”

Zayn tilts his head into the scalp massage Liam is giving him. It’s making his knees weak and his chest full to bursting with warmth. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, for dates I’ve taken you to two crime scenes and a mission of espionage against my pack. I just think I could probably do better.”

“You did take me for coffee,” Zayn points out.

“Yes, where I talked about the crime scene and espionage. It was very romantic,” Liam says dryly. He buries his face in Zayn’s hair and inhales. “Let me take you out to dinner. Something intimate. And we won’t talk about any of this at all.”

“You’ve already got me. I don’t need to be wooed.” 

Liam shakes his head. “Maybe not, but you need to know that you’re special, that I’m so lucky to have you.”

Tears prick Zayn’s eyes and he blinks them back. “Okay. We’ll go on a date. You can pick me up at 7 tomorrow. Bring your sexy sports car.” 

“You got it,” Liam laughs. 

Liam pulls back far enough to press his lips to Zayn’s in a careful, thorough kiss. It settles him more than he thought he could be at present. It’s possible he’s going to make it through all of this intact.

\---

In the end, Zayn decides he needs some space to process things and Liam leaves him in front of his building with a snuggle and a kiss to the temple. It’s not that he doesn’t believe what Louis told him, but there’s something life altering about realizing that someone wants you dead specifically. The stairs up to his flat seem interminable, every step steeper than the last.

“Zayn!” Harry greets loudly. He stops short when he catches sight of Zayn’s face, fluttering nervously in the air in front of him. “What happened?”

Zayn laughs humorlessly. “What didn’t? We went to see Louis.”

“And it didn’t go well?” Harry guesses. 

“Lou was an utter dick and apparently he and Liam have history, but he imparted some useful information.” Zayn hesitates. “He, uh, also mentioned that the elders want me dead.”

“Really?” Harry tries to look shocked and fails spectacularly.

Zayn narrows his eyes. “You knew about this and didn’t tell me?”

Harry does the equivalent of shifting from one foot to the other in the air and then lands on the end table. His wings droop nervously. “That’s why I’m here? Lou thought you needed an extra layer of protection and you never accept help until you’re half dead so. Yes?”

Oh good. More life altering revelations. Zayn can’t even. “What, exactly, is your role here?”

“No one can do a location spell on you when I’m around, mostly.” Harry shrugs. “I keep you off the grid. And let Louis know the second you get into an altercation.”

“Fucking mother hen,” Zayn mutters. That does explain a few things at least. It’s nice to know that Louis isn’t nearly as mysterious as he wants everyone to think. He’s just sneaky.

“We care about you,” Harry points out softly. “You don’t let people care about you. What else were we supposed to do?”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say. “I can’t do this right now.”

He leaves Harry looking dejected in the living room and heads for the bedroom. He kicks off his shoes and crawls into the mussed bed that still smells of Liam and sex. Eyes closed, he forces himself to clear his head and lets emotional exhaustion drag him under.

Zayn wakes feeling centered and refreshed. It’s late afternoon and the sun is shining for once and things seem better. It takes a second for him to realize that Harry is curled up under his chin, gossamer wings shifting slowly and sending rainbows across the walls.

“You mad at me?” he asks in a small voice.

“No. Not really. Just frustrated that everyone is keeping things from me for my own good,” Zayn replies with a sigh. 

Harry curls tighter. “We just love you. And prefer you not-dead.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “You’re annoying shits but I love you too.”

It’s true, even if he doesn’t express it much. Louis and Harry have wedged themselves into his life so deep that he can’t imagine not having them there anymore. He knows he’s already forgiven them for their subterfuge because it came from the right place and he knows he would have rejected their help if they’d offered it. 

Harry grins broadly and stretches catlike on the pillow. “So how was the sex?”

Zayn blushes. “It was fantastic, thanks. How was your sleepover?”

“Very satisfying,” Harry purrs with a lewd smile. 

“Gross,” Zayn teases, poking him with an index finger. “You gonna tell me where you went?”

“Nope,” Harry replies popping the p. 

“But you get to be all up in my love life? Hardly seems fair.” 

Harry shrugs. “Life isn’t fair. Also your phone rang a bit ago.”

Zayn frowns. His phone doesn’t ring very often. He must have been pretty far under to not feel the vibration against his thigh. Fishing it out of his pocket, he checks missed calls and sees Liam’s name and can’t help the soppy smile.

“That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting,” Harry informs him happily. 

Phone already up to his ear and ringing, Zayn shoos Harry out of his bed. “Zayn?” Liam answers on the other end, warm and happy. Any remaining tension bleeds out of Zayn’s body in a rush.

“Hey, Li. You called?” 

“Yeah, just checking up. You alright?” Liam’s voice runs down Zayn’s spine like warm honey. He’s so gone on this man.

“Took a bit of a nap. Feeling pretty good actually. I don’t feel surprised about someone wanting me dead, exactly. It feels like confirmation of something I suspected? In the back of my brain, like.” Zayn isn’t sure he’s making sense. 

“Right, yeah. And it sounded like they weren’t actively trying anymore?” There’s noise in the background that Zayn can’t quite identify.

Zayn nods even though Liam can’t see him. “Yeah. Subject to change, of course. But it seems I have a vampire, a fairy and a werewolf in my corner?”

“Yeah you do,” Liam confirms. “Hey, I’m down at the pub with a mate but it’d be cool if you wanted to join us.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Zayn says. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please come,” Liam cajoles. 

“Yeah alright. Where are you at?” For a homebody, Zayn is more excited at the prospect of leaving the house to see Liam than he thinks he should be. He saw him a mere six hours ago for fucks sake. 

“Good Intentions. You familiar?” 

“I’ve been there once, yeah. See you in a few?” 

“Looking forward to it,” Liam says silkily. Zayn shivers.

“Okay,” he croaks. “Bye.”

Zayn shoves his feet back into his shoes and stands in front of the mirror, trying to fluff the flattened side of his hair back up. Eventually he gives up and pulls it back into a leather tie. It’s not like Liam hasn’t seen him at his worst by now. Or, well, his non-bleeding worst. 

“Heading out _again_?” Harry calls from the kitchen. 

“Shut up!” Zayn yells back on his way out the door. 

Good Intentions is as homey as he remembers, all polished old wood and soft lights. It smells of lemons and fresh fried food and Zayn’s stomach grumbles unhappily. Breakfast was too long ago. A lifetime ago, it feels like. 

“Hey stranger,” Liam murmurs hot in his ear, sliding a hand in Zayn’s back pocket for a less than subtle grope.

Zayn jumps slightly. He didn’t see him coming. “Hey you,” he replies. 

They stand there grinning dopily at each other and Zayn wants to punch himself in the face a bit for being such a sap. Liam’s eyes are ever so slightly glazed and his grin is loose and happy. Zayn didn’t know this place served supernaturals. Regular alcohol doesn’t have much effect on weres so they must be serving something a little more specialized.

“Come on,” Liam says eventually, pressing a slightly sloppy kiss to the corner of Zayn’s mouth. “We’re in the corner close to the bar because _someone_ has a crush.”

Zayn trails after Liam feeling shy. Somehow being introduced to his friend is almost as nerve wracking as being introduced to his pack. Zayn’s friends are mad men with boundary issues. Liam probably has nice normal friends with regular jobs and hobbies and things. Zayn isn’t so great with nice and normal. 

“Zed?” a familiar voice calls from the booth in front of Liam.

Zayn stops short. “Niall?”

Niall laughs more than Zayn feels this situation warrants. “Wait. _You’re_ the bloke Leems can’t go more than three sentences without nattering on about?”

Next to him, Liam flushes. “I’m not that bad,” he mutters.

“You were practically writing poetry about his cheekbones,” Niall teases. “Although, can’t blame you. Lookit that face.”

It’s Zayn’s turn to flush. “How, exactly do you know each other?” he asks in a blatant attempt to change the conversation.

Liam slides into the booth and drags Zayn after him. “Niall does tech support for us down at the station,” he explains. “How do _you_ two know each other?”

“Niall is the reason I have a working stereo and not a chunk of burnt plastic,” Zayn says. “He’s the technomage I was telling you about.”

Liam narrows his eyes at Niall. “You’re magic?”

Niall cringes but lifts his pint glass. “Guilty.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam asks incredulously.

“Didn’t come up?” Niall offers lamely.

“Did you tell him you’re a werewolf?” Zayn asks innocently. This is far more fun than he thought it was going to be. How neither of them picked up on the other’s supernatural nature he has no idea.

“You’re a what now?” Niall gives Liam a wide-eyed look of pure shock. 

“Uh. Yeah. Born wolf and Ulfric of my pack,” Liam says quickly like he’s tearing off a bandaid.

“Jesus fecking christ,” Niall whistles. “Feeling kind of stupid for missing that.”

“I’ve been hiding it for a long time,” Liam points out softly. 

A tall man with biceps the size of Zayn’s thigh appears at the edge of their table. He has a Good Intentions shirt that is stretched to capacity over his chest. “Get you anything?” he offers.

Niall flushes a bright red and blinks rapidly behind his glasses. Zayn watches with amusement. This must be the crush Liam mentioned. Fascinating. He looks like he could break Niall in half without even trying but that’s probably part of the attraction. Zayn can relate.

“Another round please,” Liam says. “And a basket of chips. Did you want a burger or anything, Zayn?” 

“That would be great. I’m starved,” Zayn agrees. He grins at Niall mischievously. “What about you, Nialler? Need anything? Anything at all?”

“All good here,” Niall croaks, turning an even deeper red. Zayn hopes he doesn’t stroke out. “Just the beer, thanks.”

“If you’re sure, chief. Give us a shout if you need anything,” the man says in a warm brogue.

Niall waits until he’s walked back into the kitchen before dropping his forehead to the scarred table with a painful sounding thunk. “Fuck,” he swears vehemently.

Zayn kind of feels sorry for him. Not sorry enough to keep from laughing at him though. He leans against Liam’s warm side and grins broadly. “Who was that, Nialler?”

“No one,” Niall says quickly. “I hear you’re helping Payno with this latest case?”

As changes of subject go, it’s terrible. Zayn will allow it. “I am. I don’t know what we’re dealing with, though.”

“You know we can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you, Horan,” Liam teases. 

“I am practically a part of the force,” Niall sniffs.

Liam laughs. “You come by and fix our internet after Samson fucks with the firewall again.”

“Okay, fair, but I get to see all your crime boards and things anyway. What’s the latest development, then?” 

“We have patrols at the park,” Liam says. He drapes his arm over Zayn’s shoulders and it feels protective.

“They aren’t going to be able to stop anything,” Zayn warns. “They’re human. They’re not equipped to deal with any of this. If the Met would hire some mages or shifters or, hell, a hedge witch would be better able to handle this.”

“I know,” Liam replies grimly. “I’ve made this argument before and I’ve gotten nothing but resistance. It’s prejudice and politics and a large helping of pride. And it’s going to get some good people killed.”

“What about that hate group you’ve been getting shit from?” Niall asks. 

“They’re gaining traction with the general public. Everyone is terrified.” Liam pulls Zayn incrementally closer.

Zayn frowns. “What hate group?” 

“They call themselves ‘Humans First’,” Niall informs him. “Buncha shit. They’re pushing for registration. Some are calling for locking up all the supernaturals or exiling them.”

“Why haven’t I heard about this?” Zayn narrows his eyes at Liam who flushes and shifts uncomfortably.

“You had other stuff on your plate,” he explains. “I didn’t want to add to it. They haven’t actually done anything but write some letters and a few articles.”

“And protest in front of places,” Niall adds. “Like in front of the station. And City Hall.”

“Peaceful protest,” Liam counters. “We can’t do anything about it if all they’re doing is standing around with hateful signs and chanting. No matter how ugly what they’re saying is.”

Zayn takes a deep breath. “I know. I know that. I don’t like it and I don’t like what might happen if they find out what you are.”

The thought of Liam being found out makes Zayn sick to his stomach. They would make an example of him. Right now it’s a few extremists slinging words around, but Zayn knows exactly how deep words can cut and the thought of any of that directed at Liam is intolerable. Liam is like sunshine on a cloudy day. He’s everything bright and good in the world and no one should be allowed to darken that even a little, even momentarily.

“Hey, hey,” Liam says gently, covering the hand Zayn didn’t realize was digging into Liam’s thigh with his own. “It’s going to be fine, okay? I’m fine. Even if they find out, I’ll be fine.”

Zayn doesn’t share Liam’s optimism. From the expression on Niall’s face, he doesn’t either. The truth is that neither he nor Niall will be the first attacked if this situation escalates. Eventually, they’ll get around to magic users, but they’ll start with the weres and vampires, those who are more obviously not human. Maybe the fae as well, but Zayn would like to see a human try something with a fairy. That never ends well for anyone but the fairy.

For now, registration and mandatory blood testing are just bullet points on some extremists’ wish list, but Louis was right. If even a few more people are ripped apart they’re going to start sounding more reasonable to the general public. Zayn is no seer but he can feel the unease in the air when he walks down the street. It’s palpable and growing stronger.

“Okay,” Zayn finally says. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

Luckily, the cheerful bloke with the massive muscles appears with food and drinks to distract them. Zayn lets the conversation drift away from unpleasantness to sport or whatever Niall and Liam are chatting about. He’s content to watch them banter without contributing much. 

His burger is delicious, but Zayn isn’t as hungry as when he came in. Anxiety has knotted his stomach. He forces the food down anyway because he knows his body needs it and he’ll regret it later if he doesn’t, but it sits heavy in the pit of his stomach.

“Right, Zed?” Niall looks expectantly across the table.

Zayn blinks. “What?” 

Niall laughs at him. “Zoned out, did you? Was just telling Payno he needed to bring you out more often.”

“Oh! Um, yeah, that’d be sick,” Zayn replies, embarrassed. 

Surprisingly, he means it. He’s always liked Niall, but Zayn doesn’t socialize much. It would be nice to try again without getting worked up about the current events. Maybe next time he can get Niall to tell him more about why he hasn’t just gone for it with his guy. Niall has never been the shy type. 

“You’ve class tomorrow, yeah?” Liam nudges Zayn gently.

“And a staff meeting in the morning,” Zayn groans. “Early morning.”

“Alright, we’re off then,” Liam announces, throwing a wad of bills on the table. “We’ll be here Thursday at 8, Niall?”

“Yeah. I’ll text if something comes up,” Niall agrees with a nod. “And maybe I can magic something better than that outdated brick you’ve been using, Malik. It’s horrible.”

Zayn exits the booth with a laugh. “You can try. If anyone could manage it’d be you. I just got tired of replacing the damn thing.”

They make their goodbyes and head in opposite directions outside the door. If Zayn remembers correctly, Niall lives a block or so East. Liam stops near the alley to try and hail a cab. Disinterested, Zayn looks at the shops lining the street and peers down the alley behind them. Sprawling red letters spray painted across the aged brick make him tense up. “Gut all monsters,” is huge and ugly. 

Without forethought, Zayn raises his hand and sets them on fire, burning them from the building if not from memory. He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Liam wraps him in his arms and murmurs soothing nonsense in his ear. Zayn buries his face against Liam’s chest, inhaling the comforting scent of him and trying to banish the fear and rage that are swirling under his skin like a storm.

“It’s probably kids,” Liam says. “You know how they are. It’s nothing.”

Zayn disagrees but eventually Liam is going to stop believing his own placations and Zayn isn’t sure he wants that either. Instead he drags Liam down to kiss him fiercely, possessively, hoping with his entire being that they’ll survive whatever is coming.

“Take me home, Liam.”


End file.
